


Haunt Me

by pana (panaceaa)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Shuake Week 2020, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, We're going for a happy or hopeful ending, but first we all hold hands and cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaceaa/pseuds/pana
Summary: “Good morning, honey.”Goro freezes, and slowly he rotates onto his back, finding himself staring into the face of the very person who wassupposedto be dead. Because Akira Kurusu haddied, and therefore shouldn’t be looking down at him with that cheeky little smile of his.For the life of him, Goro can’t stop staring. “I’ve gone delusional,” he mutters.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 105
Kudos: 325





	1. Hope

* * *

It’s three in the morning and Goro can’t sleep. 

It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. Goro was no stranger to nightmares, he’d had them since he was a child and they always left him with a pounding heart in the dead of night, restless and shaking. They’d gotten better in the time since he and Akira started dating and his nights were therefore no longer spent alone. Still, the past is not something that’s so easily forgotten, and his subconscious often reminds him of that fact. 

On this particular night, in the silence punctuated only by the frailty of their breaths, he once again finds himself looking at the mark emblazoned on the skin of his wrist. His eyes lingering on the slanted letters that always gave him hope when he was young and alone. It had always let him know that somewhere _somehow_ there was someone in the world that was meant for him. In an old semblance of habit, he suddenly finds himself tracing the lines of it in the way that always brought him comfort. 

“Goro?” 

Goro stops his childish action to look over at Akira who’s blinking sleepily up at him. He always reminded Goro somewhat of a cat with the way he could fall asleep almost instantly and then wake up at the slightest hint of sound or movement. He hadn’t meant to wake him, but like so many nights before this, he must have somehow. Knowing better than to tell Akira to go back to sleep since he never listened anyway, Goro settles on a different topic of conversation. Hopefully, one that would stop Akira from asking about this night’s particular nightmare, since he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. 

“You don’t have to go with me tomorrow,” Goro says without looking at him. 

The bed jostles a little and the next thing Goro knows there are warm lips brushing gently against his, careful and loving in a way that makes something deep within his chest ache. Before he can fully lean into it, Akira is already pulling back with a look still tinged with the throes of sleep. 

“I’d follow you anywhere,” Akira tells him in that stupid endearingly affectionate way of his. It was the way he always got when they were together in the dark. 

While it may be true that Goro has never told him about how much strength and hope his mark gave him over the years, Akira has always been observant. So, he has a feeling he knows. 

***

It was supposed to be a fairly routine reconnaissance mission. 

Working for the Shadow Ops had been fairly dull recently, at least in Goro’s opinion. Most of his work with the organization was paperwork and a whole lot of research, to the point that the times he actually got to fight in the field were far and few between. Not that those missions ever seemed to pose much of a threat to him. However, recently they had discovered traces of a shadow with an unusually high power reading lurking within the Metaverse, which was in need of investigating. Naturally Goro, determined as he was to prove his worth to the organization who’d taken him in despite knowing of his past, was the first one to volunteer for the job. He really did owe the Shadow Ops a lot. 

Akira, on the other hand, owed them nothing and _technically_ didn’t even work for them. Sure, he agreed to a job at their request every once in a while, but he wasn’t exactly on their payroll. While the Shadow Ops was Goro’s career choice, for Akira it was just another option for that week's paycheck. Goro wasn’t even sure how many places Akira was technically employed at, and he had a pretty substantial feeling that Akira wasn’t so sure either. 

In short: Akira wasn’t really supposed to have gone with them. 

But, Akira always did what he wanted, and he’d wanted the old thrill of exploring the Metaverse with Goro at his side. Because Akira was a soft bleeding heart like that, despite everything that Goro had done to him in his past. _Murder, betrayal, second attempted murder-_ Akira still somehow forgave him. As he did for a lot of things- far too many in Goro’s opinion. 

No matter what happened, Akira never left. 

Sometimes, Goro couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps he was too dependent on Akira. They’d been together since high school, finding each other again shortly after the collapse of the false reality. From rivals, to friends, to lovers- they’d proven themselves to be soulmates in every way possible. One half of each other’s soul. 

Sometimes...Goro couldn’t even remember who he _was_ without him. 

It’s why he didn’t even bat an eye when Akira offered to go with him on what was supposed to be a _very routine reconnaissance mission._ He’d gone on plenty of other missions with him before, so what was one more? Besides...Goro liked having Akira around, as loathe as he was to admit it sometimes. 

The team for the mission was as follows: Fuuka Yamagishi. Junpei Iori, Chie Satonaka, and himself. 

Their objective was direct: Go in. Find the target. Eliminate if necessary. 

It should have been easy. Simple. In and out without even the slightest thrill from a battle that would likely not be a considerable challenge. 

Yet, while Goro knows he couldn’t have imagined what would happen, he should have suspected something was _wrong_ earlier. It was too quiet in the Metaverse, all the ordinary shadows eerily missing from the darkened halls of the cognitive palace they were exploring. It wasn’t Mementos, but it was similar with all its winding nonsensical pathways and endless staircases leading up to more and more floors. They’d been here on a mission before; although, they’d never mapped out much of it. Still, _Goro_ _had been here_. He _knew_ there was supposed to be more shadows around. 

And yet...he ignored it, passing it off as nothing. 

It’s not until later that he realizes what a mistake that would end up being. 

Since they had yet to encounter a single shadow, the group’s guard was down. It was another stupid mistake. _Goro should have known better._ But Yamagishi, Iori, and Satonaka were up ahead talking with one another, and Akira was being _Joker,_ walking beside him as they trailed behind the rest of the group. It was both endearing and completely maddening how much bolder Joker was in the Metaverse in comparison to how quiet and relatively reserved Akira was in the real world. Case and point: Joker’s current decision to see how close he could get to groping Crow before he either gave into him or bit off his arm. 

Crow was currently a little closer to following through with the latter. 

“Do you have _any_ decency!?” Crow hisses at him, swatting his hand away from his ass for what was possibly the fifth time, 

“What?” Joker asks, all feigned innocence and batted lashes. Crow gives him a withering look, letting him know exactly what he thought of his little _innocent_ act. 

“Can’t you wait until we get home?” 

Joker visibly pouts at his suggestion. “They already know we’re dating,” he says, tilting his head in the direction of their current company and offering a shrug. “So, what’s the big deal?”

“The _big deal_ is, this is my _job_ ,” he hisses, leaning in closer so he’s not overheard. “Or are you so dull you’ve forgotten that little detail? It would help if you took this a bit more seriously.” Crossing his arms, he looks away from his idiot of a boyfriend, only looking back when Joker gently grabs his arms. Successfully pulled to a halt when he’d previously been trying to speed up his pace, Crow glowers at him before once again avoiding his eyes. He knew it was stupid for him to be acting like this, but old habits die hard. 

“Crow, I do take this seriously,” Joker says, voice soft and honest, which is annoying because Crow is _trying_ to stay mad at him. “Look at me.” Bringing a hand up to his jaw, Joker tilts his head to face him until all Crow can see is his intense gray gaze that always seemed to look right through him. “You’re upset.”

Crow immediately feels a lot like a temperamental teenager, which only makes his blood boil even more. He _hated_ that Joker knew him as well as he did. Hated that a part of him preened under his attention while another part bristled at the thought of needing to be coddled. 

And...Crow hated how much he relied on him while he himself had nothing to give back in return. 

“I’m not discussing it here,” Crow tells him, keeping his tone even. 

“When we get home then?” Joker says because he was _perfect_. Always knowing exactly what to say, what to do, and what Crow needed more than even he himself did sometimes. 

“I’ll think about it,” he says, frustrated with himself even as he says it. 

“You know,” Joker says after a moment. “I do realize you can’t exactly be open about a lot of things about your job. But maybe I’d at least be able to understand things a little bit more if you let me go to one of those parties you always complain about,” he shrugs, avoiding his eyes. “Or I don’t know, _something_.”

“The reason I complain about them is because I don’t like going to them in the first place,” Crow points out, not understanding where the hell this was coming from all of a sudden. 

Joker turns to offer him a weak smile. 

“I might be able to help with that.”

Crow’s eyes narrow at the implication. “I don’t need you to hold my hand all the time, _Joker_ ,” he sneers. 

“I’m not saying you do-”

Joker never does get to finish whatever he’d been about to say, because in the next moment he’s interrupted by Yamagishi's warning. 

“Watch out!” 

Crow turns just in time to see a powerful burst of bright white energy heading towards them, moments before he’s tackled to the ground by Joker. 

His head is protected by Joker’s arms as they hit the ground, and he immediately searches for the thing that had attacked them. He finds it in the form of a huge towering demon descending from the sky on translucent wings. 

A fly. 

Of course, it would be a giant fucking _fly_. 

“ ** _I am Beezlebub_**. **_An army of chaos will rise at my Lord Lucifer’s command!!_** ” The creature buzzes, its voice echoing in a way that instantly gives Crow a headache. Of all the annoying pathetic things they could have encountered here, it had to be _this_ shit. 

Tearing his eyes away from the demon-fly, it finally registers with Crow that Akira still hasn’t gotten off of him. He aims a questioning look at Joker as the others rush into battle with the powerful shadow. Noticing Joker’s pained grimace, Crow hurriedly pats down his sides and checks him over for injuries, finding that a part of his coat had been burnt, thankfully not all the way through. 

“Joker?” He questions, grabbing his chin lightly in his claws and tilting his face towards him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay,” Joker responds with a slight wince before giving Crow a small grin. “Don’t worry about me.”

Before Crow can question him further, there’s a large gust of wind that barely misses them, and in the next moment, Joker is back on his feet once more. Crow watches as he calls forth his persona with the same natural grace he had when they were back in highschool, power emanating from him in a threatening aura. It makes him look invincible. 

Crow quickly follows suit, and together they rush over to join the fight with the rest of the team.

The shadow ends up using a myriad of elements against them, never sticking to one in a way that forces them all to stay on their toes. Goro does his best to gracefully switch between Loki, Robin Hood, and Hereward as he fights. He might only have access to three personas, but even they give him a bit of trouble to switch between, his head pounding with the effort. 

Joker, on the other hand, is a _vision_. Swapping between his arsenal of personas with a mastery that Crow can’t help but be a little envious of. He pelts the demon with nuclear and psi attacks, reigning down lightning and summoning blazing storms, and yet...the demon hardly looks worse for wear. 

“Careful!” Yamagishi calls out eventually. “It’s storing up for a powerful attack!” 

Crow does his best to guard, and yet the intense almighty attack still manages to burn like fire against his skin, making his body wrack with pain. It doesn’t last long before the familiar sensation of healing washes over him, and Crow looks over to see Joker with Ishtar hovering overhead.

It’s in that one single moment of distraction that Crow’s guard is down just enough to allow the demon an opening. Pain shoots through his entire body with a dizzying intensity that he recognizes as the familiar energy of a bless attack, the sheer force of it causing him to crumple to his knees. 

He clenches his teeth as Loki howls in pained fury inside him, disgusted by the fact that he’d allowed himself to get downed by his one single weakness. 

“It’s too strong we need to get out of here!” he distantly hears Satonaka call, lifting his head enough to spot her backing up closer to Yamagishi. His gaze instinctively searches the field for Joker, finding him locked in battle with the demon-fly from hell next to Iori. Cerberus rushes out from behind him, digging its sharp claws into the fly’s side, but it still looks as if he isn’t doing too much damage. He knows Joker usually preferred sticking to support and healing skills, so Crow is left to assume that he hadn’t prepared for a physical fight. Likely he’d only jumped directly into the fray as a way to distract the demon before it could get another hit on Crow while he was down. This theory is only supported by the worried look Joker shoots him over his shoulder, to which Crow offers a weary smile. 

A smile that quickly gets lost with the next words out of Yamagishi’s mouth. 

“Watch out!” she calls out. “It’s going to go for another powerful attack!” 

But of course, it’s too late. 

Crow can already see the demon storing up energy, and yet, downed as he is with his body still trembling with the lasting remains of the attack, he can do nothing to protect himself. 

He’s well aware of exactly what that means. 

Looking away from the demon, he locks eyes with Joker once again from across the small distance that suddenly seems momentous. Joker is yelling something at him, his dagger still embedded in the creature’s side, and yet the words don’t register. Just _Akira_.

Determined, stupid, beautiful Akira. 

Maybe he should, but in that moment, Crow doesn’t fear death. He would have preferred more time, but he’s at peace with the place he ended up. He’d found purpose....and he’d found Akira. _Somehow_. _Impossibly_. It’s more than he ever deserved. 

Only, as the crushing light overtakes them, Crow feels...nothing. His skin tingles with a magical field that dissipates like water rushing over skin the moment the attack dissipates and the world reemerges into focus. He looks up just in time to see Iori leap up from where he’d been guarding himself, jamming his two-handed sword into the demon’s side as it lets out a grotesque wail. Its buzzing cries cut off abruptly as a spear of ice comes from Satonaka’s direction and lodges itself in its head, the demon finally dissipating into dust around them. 

He searches the field for Joker, finding him on the ground, and _fury_ overtakes him. Of all the _stupid- dumb- reckless_ things he could have done-

That **_idiot_**. He _always_ had to play the goddamn hero. 

Joker doesn’t move as Crow walks over to him. Still, Crow doesn’t take pity as he nudges him sharply with his foot. 

“Joker, _get up_.”

He pauses, and when Joker still doesn’t move the anger swiftly drains out of him and replaces itself with bone-chilling _fear_. 

“... _Akira_?” He questions softly, voice small and pathetic in the sudden silence. The others are talking to him, saying _things_ in the background but Goro can’t hear them through the sudden roaring in his ears. “Love?”

But Akira doesn’t get up. 

***

When a person’s soulmate dies, their soulmark is supposed to fade away. 

It’s a fact of life. Something that’s always been true. Sometimes a new soulmark would eventually reveal itself, and sometimes one wouldn’t. The person who’d been left behind having lost the only soulmate they’d ever meet, wearing a testament of that fact by the faint shadow left behind where a soulmark once rested: bold and true. 

Goro knows all of this. And yet, after Akira dies, his soulmark doesn’t fade.

 _Akira Kurusu_ remains written across his wrist in Akira’s slanted handwriting, just high enough on his wrist for him to have tugged the material of his glove over it in the beginning. Akira…he’d had a matching one at the same juncture between hand and arm, except he’d never tried to hide his. _Goro Akechi_ displayed proudly against his pale skin, as if having Goro as a soulmate was something he could be happy about instead of acting like it was the curse it should have been. 

Goro doesn’t know what this means. There’s a small voice in the back of his head that reminds him of cognitions and people revived from the dead from a time long ago but not forgotten, and so he should know better than to think anything is impossible. He himself should be dead, and yet somehow he’s not. But Goro’s always been a realist. Never one to let dreams and possibilities outweigh logic and probability. So he doesn’t allow himself to hope. 

Not on that first night without Akira. 

Not when he was tearing apart the kitchen in a mindless fury, not even remembering the exact reason why he’d started. But the apartment had been too quiet, and Goro felt sick and hungry all at once. He’d gone to the kitchen to try to make coffee to get something into his stomach only to realize he didn’t even know how to work the fucking coffee machine because it was _Akira’s-_

...And the rest is just a blur. Tears clouding his eyes as the kitchen takes the brunt of his anger until exhaustion finally takes him and he passes out. 

He isn’t hopeful on the second night without him either. 

That’s the night he kicks Morgana out of the house, tired of his constant questions and concerns.

_Akechi, how did Akira die?_

_You know, destroying the kitchen isn’t going to solve anything._

_Akechi, you really need to eat something-_

It was none of the _cat’s_ business how he coped. And it’s on that night that Goro wakes from his nightmares and discovers his abandoned alcohol stash.

He doesn’t remember the third night. 

When the fourth night comes, Goro is on his fourth glass of whiskey. The shit tastes awful, but it dulls a bit of the edge. It hurts too much to be sober, and he was tired of hurting. He’d cut out his own heart if he could, but there’s something stopping him. A promise he made a long time ago. 

It’s with that thought that he looks down at his soulmark in all its slanted perfection. Stupid fucking Akira and his perfect handwriting and his perfect... _everything_. Goro should have been the one to die, Akira could have protected himself. But no, stupid fucking Akira had to go and be the _hero_ all over again.

He looks at the mark on his wrist and he _hates_ it. 

Grabbing a cloth from the counter, he pours whisky on it to dampen it before wiping furiously at his arm. It couldn’t go that deep. Soul-markings couldn’t go that low beneath the surface. So he scrubs and he scrubs until his wrist burns like it’s on fire and his skin turns angry and red, and yet _Akira_ fucking _Kurusu_ remains imprinted on him like some sort of _sick_ **_fucking_ ** _joke._

“Come on you stupid piece of **_shit_** _!_ ” 

With a curse, he tosses the good-for-nothing cloth and grabs for a knife on the counter. He should have started with the fucking knife. 

He’s about to cut the stupid fucking thing out of his wrist, knife poised against his skin, when a voice he thought he’d never hear again cuts through him instead. 

“ _Goro!_ ”

Goro’s entire world stops with that one single call of his name. He’s certain he’s hallucinating, certain that he’s only hearing things- some last self-defense mechanism from his fucked up brain. But then the voice comes again, clear and unmistakable. 

“Honey, please put down the knife.” Goro drops it as if it burned him, his hands shaking. He can’t even turn around, something more than fear making him completely unable to. “Good, thank you,” the voice continues anyway. “But wow, this place is a mess.”

At that, he finally gathers the courage to spin around in his seat. 

“ _Akira_?” He asks, blinking at the vision in front of him and hating the keening sound of his own voice. _Pathetic_. 

He knows it can’t be him. Akira Kurusu is fucking dead. Killed by a giant fucking demon-fly from the depths of hell who had nothing better to do than to take away the only thing in the world that Goro Akechi cared about. 

And yet...it’s him. 

It’s _him_. 

Akira Kurusu is standing in their living room, as steady and certain as the day he died. Illogically. _Impossibly_. 

It can’t be him. It can’t be- _itcan’tbe_ ** _itcan’tbe_ **

His hallucination of Akira gives a casual little wave that brings sudden unexplainable anger boiling to the surface. “Honey, I’m home.”

“You lied,” Goro tells him flatly, pushing every single one of his sappy pathetic emotions away. Feeling nothing but the simmering anger and frustration within him. 

Not-Akira’s smile falls. “What?”

“You promised you’d never leave me.”

“Goro, listen-“

“No, _you_ listen, you fucking piece of **_trash_**!” Goro snarls, suddenly furious. Couldn’t he just be miserable in peace? “I was fine being alone! I was **_fine_**. Then you had to insert yourself into my life and now **_look_** at what happened! I **_hate_ ** you!” He goes to grab Akira but phases right through him. The movement however knocks him off balance and he ends up on the floor. Curling into himself he chokes on a sob, his anger gone as grief rears its pathetic head and eats at his heart. “I’m sorry-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please don’t leave me- please don’t leave.” 

There’s a warm presence suddenly beside him. It touches him gently, and the sensation is like the brush of sunlight against his skin. 

“I’m so sorry, my wish,” says Akira’s voice, and Goro lets out a pathetic keening sound at the old pet-name. Akira lifts his arm, brushing his fingers against Goro’s cheek, and Goro leans into the tingly warmth of it although his head still feels just as weightless. “I don’t know how, but I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You’re lying,” he chokes. 

“I’m not.”

Goro’s mind is cloudy and murky, but through the fog, he feels himself start to relax. A familiar comfort waking up within his chest and his soulmark buzzing with that same warmth that reminds him a lot of what hope felt like. 

He’s almost positive that this Akira is a drunken hallucination, one that will vanish with the morning sunrise. But for now, he can pretend that he’s here with him, and maybe he can actually get some actual sleep for the first time since that godforsaken night. 

Heart now a bit calmer, the effects of the alcohol finally pile on with his deep-seated exhaustion, and sleep finally washes over him. All the while, the feeling of that quiet warmth stays with him. 

And that night, the nightmares don’t come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want everyone to know that I pretty much wrote this entire fic over the course of three days and I might be dying. At this point, I have two and a half chapters left to go to finish this, which I'll be completing after work this week so I'll have the weekend to update To Know Your Target :')
> 
> ANYWAY. This is my contribution to Shuake week, in which I looked at the prompts and said, "Okay, but what if Akira _died_." And then proceeded to ignore the chorus of "Pana, no," that followed :)  
> So yeah, this will be updated daily until it's finished, granted I find the strength to write the final chapters in the next four days.


	2. (Mind) Games

The light coming in through the window is incredibly harsh when he wakes. With a groan, Goro goes to bury his head into the pillow, only to find himself mashing his face into the hardwood floor instead. Slowly, the events from the night before start to register. He’d been drinking. Heavily. Because every godforsaken day he had to exist in this new reality where Akira was- 

“Good morning, honey.”

Goro freezes, and slowly he rotates onto his back, finding himself staring into the face of the very person who was _supposed_ to be dead. Because Akira Kurusu had died, and therefore shouldn’t be looking down at him with that cheeky little smile of his. 

For the life of him, Goro can’t stop staring. 

“I’ve gone delusional,” he mutters. 

Despite how much he’d like to believe that Akira was really here, he _knows_ better. And he’s had _more_ than enough of these fucking mind games that his own screwed up head liked to play with him. Maybe this was Loki’s doing. Perhaps his persona got so bored with him that it decided to finally drive him mad. Not that Goro has any evidence for that, with an exception to the fact that there was clearly something _very_ wrong with his head. Any other explanation would be insane and improbable and- _no_. No, he was _not_ doing this. 

“I have to go to work,” he says flatly, pushing down every part of him that wanted to pull Akira closer or remain staring at him for the rest of his sad existence, in favor of making himself feel absolutely _nothing_. 

It might have even been working a little. 

“Goro, wait,” his hallucination of Akira says as Goro pushes to his feet a little too fast, nearly falling back onto the floor as a wave of dizziness hits him. “You can’t seriously be planning to go in like this.”

“I’m fine,” he says to _himself_ , walking over to the bathroom and pretending to ignore Not-Akira following after him. While he’s in there he yanks open the medicine cabinet and takes a bottle of pain relievers. Dumping several into his hand, he swallows them all down at once for his migraine. 

“Goro, what the hell did you just take?” Not-Akira says, going wide-eyed. It was nice to know his own subconscious was apparently very worried about him, but Goro just shoots him a glare in response. Stalking back into the kitchen, he walks by Not-Akira in a way that would have harshly jostled his shoulder _if_ he had been real. So, of course, he doesn’t. Instead, Goro passes right through him, ignoring the little stab of pain in his chest as he does so. 

He really needed coffee. 

Although...that would require a coffee maker that he actually knew how to use...and that he hadn’t ended up destroying in his little temper tantrum. _Pathetic_. It all starts to come back again, that feeling of unending grief clawing up his throat until it choked him and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He bites down on it, swallowing it down like he used to when he was a kid and thoughts of his mother would plague him just like this. 

Why was it everyone he cared about ended up dying horribly? This was exactly why he should have known better than to allow himself to get close to anyone again. 

“So...did someone rob the place or…?” Not-Akira says from behind him, and Goro turns to face him. 

“You died,” he tells him numbly. 

Not-Akira gives him the saddest look. It’s that same look real-Akira used to get on his face whenever Goro would open up and talk about his past. Like in those moments after the worst of his nightmares, where Akira would look at him just like this, and in the quiet darkness of the early morning he’d pull him into his arms and let Goro sob quietly into his chest while he stroked his hair. 

“Goro,” Not-Akira tells him now, stepping forward as if he’s intending to do just that. “I’m still here.”

But he just shakes his head, taking a step back to narrow his eyes at his hallucination. “You’re not _real_.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you _died_ , Akira!” Something deep within him breaks and without his control tears well up in his eyes. He turns his head, doing his best to blink them away. “I’m not going to- You can’t ask me to-“

“You think I’m going to disappear again,” Not-Akira concludes for him, tone gentle. 

“I’m not having this conversation.” And with that, Goro attempts to stride away to anywhere his own mind couldn’t manage to fuck with him anymore. As for _where_ that was, he wasn’t so sure, but he’d figure that out later. 

He only makes it about a step into the hallway when he’s hit with an intense pain in his wrist. His mark _burns_ as if someone had slashed a knife across it and then set it on fire. Burning from the inside out. From behind him there’s a choked cry of pain, and it sounds so much like the real-Akira that Goro almost instinctively rushes over to see if he’s alright. He stops himself, instead choosing to give his now hunched-over delusion of Akira an accusing glare. This was his fault. 

“What was that?” Goro asks, crossing his arms. “What did you just do to me?”

To be fair, Not-Akira does a very good impersonation of the real thing as he pants for breath while clutching at his knees for support. Holding up a single finger, he gives the universal sign to just _give him a minute_. Goro rolls his eyes and taps his foot impatiently as he waits for his delusion to get a grip. 

“So, you admit I might be real,” Not-Akira gasps out eventually, offering Goro a cheeky look through his lashes. 

_More fucking mind games._ Of all the things his mind could have conjured up, it had to be the most fucking accurately maddening version of Akira possible. His own subconscious couldn’t make _anything_ easy for him.

Caught between screaming or just going to get ready for work while pretending that none of this was happening, Goro finds himself distracted by a scratching noise coming from the window. He’s not really surprised to see the small black shape pawing at the glass, but Not-Akira sends him a very accusatory look. 

“Why is Morgana locked outside?”

“He was annoying me,” Goro tells him evenly. 

“You locked my _cat_ outside?!”

Vision or not, Akira is clearly horrified, and Goro has a very deep suspicion that the real one would have reacted much the same. Suddenly feeling guilty, Goro avoids Fake-Akira’s eyes. 

“He isn’t a cat,” he mutters in his defense but goes over to the window anyway to let him in. 

“Finally!” Morgana yowls the moment he steps inside, shooting a very offended look at Goro. It doesn’t escape his notice that he doesn’t even spare a glance in Fake-Akira’s direction. “Look, I’m upset too, but that’s no reason to-”

“Morgana,” he quickly interrupts, jabbing a finger in the space behind him. “Do you see him?”

Morgana blinks at him as if he’s gone insane. 

“What, see who?”

 _Ah_. 

Well, that answered that. 

“No one,” Goro answers a little too softly, hating the strange mix of heartache and disappointment. There was _nothing_ to be disappointed about, he knew Akira was only a delusion the entire time. This was just some sick mind game conjured up by his fucked up subconscious. Nothing more. 

“Goro, I’m not a hallucination,” The hallucination pleads to him. Pausing thoughtfully before continuing with, “At least, I don’t think? Can hallucinations be self-aware and have free thought?”

Goro pinches the bridge of his nose, beginning to regret the amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. Those pills he took weren’t doing jack-shit for his headache, and this was only making it worse. “How am I supposed to know?” he grits out. 

“Akechi, are you okay?” Morgana asks him, looking at him as if he’s finally lost it. Probably because he has. 

With a deep inhale, Goro straightens. He wouldn’t let this control his miserable life. 

“...I’m going to work,” he announces, spinning on his heel to make his way back to their- _his_ bedroom. It was still a bit early, but Goro could make use of his time to get some extra work done. Maybe make up for the past few days where he hadn’t been the most...productive. 

“Goro, wait,” Not-Akira says, and Goro despises how he automatically stops walking. “Can you just...humor me for a second?” he asks softly, sounding almost desperate. Goro’s heart twists painfully at the sound, and he slowly finds himself turning toward him. _Not-_ Akira offers a small encouraging smile. “I have something in my bedside drawer that’s yours, all the way to the right.”

Goro raises a brow at him. 

“It’s not...like that,” he says with a weak laugh. “Just trust me.” 

Goro wants to tell him that he has absolutely no reason to trust him. Wants to tell the hallucination to leave him the hell alone so he can go back to... _coping_. Maybe his methods weren’t the best, but dealing with this wasn’t going to help him in the long-run. If anything it was just a sign that he should probably go to therapy- if therapists were people he didn’t absolutely distrust with all of his being. 

And yet, all that aside, when Goro wordlessly continues to the bedroom, he finds himself making a beeline for Akira’s side of the bed. _This is pathetic, you idiot_ , he reprimands himself, even as he pulls open Akira’s bedside drawer. 

It’s organized, with only a few miscellaneous things inside. Goro’s stomach twists painfully as he takes in the things Akira left behind, but forces himself to check the far right corner of the draw where his gaze catches on what looks like a folded piece of black material. Confused, he picks it up, and his heartbeat comes to a sudden stop when it reveals itself to be a single glove. 

_...His_ glove.

Unable to support himself, he sits down on the bed and blinks away the tears forming in his eyes. He senses his presence come up beside him, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the material resting on the heart of his palm. 

“...You kept it,” Goro says quietly, his voice breaking. 

“Of course I did.”

Goro takes in a deep shuddering breath and bites down on the knuckle of his other hand, willing himself to keep it together. From beside him there’s a sudden weight on the bed, and Morgana pokes his head into his line of sight. 

“Akechi...what’s going on?” Morgana asks tentatively. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, Goro takes the time to collect himself before he regards Morgana with the full weight of his gaze. “Morgana,” he says evenly, “he’s still here.” 

“What?”

“Akira,” he tells him, turning to look at the _ghost_ of his soulmate. Perfect, beautiful, _impossible_ , Akira. He should have known that Akira Kurusu would somehow manage to return from the dead in some shape or form. He’d had a feeling that his mind would have never been able to reassemble his likeness; although the pain of possibly realizing he’d only ever been a hallucination had scared him off from admitting the truth. But he couldn’t deny it anymore. “That’s who I’ve been talking to,” he softly finishes with a weak smile, a mirror to Akira’s own. 

“Akechi…” Morgana says slowly, clearly not believing him. It was understandable, Akechi could _see_ him and he could hardly believe it either. 

“Tell him to ask me something only I would know,” Akira suggests, and with a nod, Goro turns back towards Morgana. 

“He wants you to ask him something, as a test.”

Morgana regards him skeptically, but something else crosses over his feline features. Something sad yet hopeful. Sometimes, Goro forgot how important Akira was to him too. 

“...What’s the last thing he said to me?”

Goro watches as Akira takes a step forward, leaning down to Morgana in what’s likely a mirror of the same way he had right before he left that final day. He reaches a hand out to scratch lightly at his head, but his hand goes right through him and Morgana offers no response.

“I’m sorry it’s probably better if you didn’t come with us,” Akira tells him, a melancholy lilt to his smile. “I’ll bring you back sushi after to make up for it.”

Goro repeats what he said word for word and watches as Morgana’s eyes widen, his bright blue eyes going glassy. Meanwhile, Goro hadn’t even been aware cats could cry. 

“You could have guessed that,” Morgana says weakly, his ears flat on his head. Reaching out, Goro mirrors Akira’s scratching motion, and Morgana instantly leans into it. 

“You know I didn’t,” Goro tells him. Morgana is silent for a moment before he lifts his head and peers a little more intensely around the room. 

“Why can only you see him?” he asks, his gaze sliding directly over Akira. “You think it has something to do with you two being soulmates?”

Goro had never heard of anything like this happening before, soulmates or not. But he does recall that brief flare of pain in his mark earlier and he considers it the best possible lead they have at the moment. 

“Possibly,” he says thoughtfully. Depositing the glove safely back into the drawer, Goro peers down at his mark that still looked the same as ever. Not faded in the slightest, even though it should have been nearly gone by now. “A strange thing happened earlier when we got too far away from each other. So, maybe it’s... “ he trails off, considering something. “Akira,” Goro says looking up at him. “Can you try walking back to the kitchen?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” There’s a look of confusion on Akira’s features, but he doesn’t question him as he turns and makes his way back out of the room. As Goro watches him disappear from the door his mark begins to throb, but it’s nothing compared to the mind-numbing panic he feels at losing sight of him. This was probably a fucking awful idea. _What if he never came back?_ It’s a stupid pathetic feeling, and Goro’s relief is palpable when Akira pops back into the room again with a pained groan. “Well, that was unpleasant,” Akira gasps. “Can we please not try that again?”

“How do you feel?” 

“Like I just pulled too hard on a rubber band, if said rubber band was my entire body that just got yanked back.” He pauses and mutters something under his breath that sounds like a curse. “Are ghosts supposed to feel pain? ...Or breathe?”

Goro rubs absentmindedly at his burning mark, trying his best to quiet his worry for now. Not like he could do much of anything anyway. Still, there’s a twisting feeling in his gut over seeing Akira like this that makes him a little sick to his stomach. Something that went far deeper than ordinary concern. 

“I suppose this means that somehow you’ve gone and attached yourself to me after you died,” he surmises as calmly as possible, raising a brow in Akira’s direction. “Any idea how you managed that?”

Akira straightens and gives him a coquettish smile, for all intents and purposes looking completely and utterly _alive_. Straight down to his still heaving chest- impossible and improbable, because Goro had held his body in his arms after he died and there’d been no pulse. 

He’d checked

Multiple times. 

And yet, there was undeniably a part of Akira that was still living here, even if only because a part of him was attached to Goro. 

Almost as if he was...trapped.

“Is that a serious question,” Akira is saying, acting like absolutely nothing is wrong here. Because of course he is. He’s _Akira_. “I think I’ve made my attachment to you fairly obvious,” he continues with a sly smile. And meanwhile, that twisting feeling in Goro’s gut returns, making him feel like he’s about to be sick. Likely catching his expression, Akira’s smile falls. “What’s wrong?” he asks, moving to sit on the bed beside him. Of course, the moment he tries to, he phases right through it, landing on the floor- which apparently was solid enough for him to stand on. When he gets back to his feet he offers Goro a sheepish smile, and something in his chest twists painfully at the sight. 

This was no way for him to live. 

Goro sighs. “You can’t stay here, Akira,” he says even though the words feel like eating glass. “Even if you won’t admit it, you’re trapped.” 

Trapped and caught in a gilded cage, tethered to Goro like a dog on a leash. Akira deserved more, deserved better. Someone like him should never be reduced to this. 

“I mean I guess…” Akira says slowly, looking away and fiddling with his fringe in the way he did whenever he was uncomfortable. “Maybe I have some unfinished business or something?”

“Unfinished business…” Goro echos, considering it. 

“Um, so I’m only catching half of this conversation,” Morgana speaks up from where he was still sitting on his lap. Goro blinks at him in surprise, honestly having forgotten he was still there. “But maybe it has something to do with the way he died? How _did_ he die, again?”

He catches Akira’s disbelieving look at the reveal that Goro had never in fact told Morgana the details about his death. In his defense, he didn’t want to fucking talk about it. He still didn’t, honestly. 

“He was murdered by a giant demon-fly,” he tells him bluntly. 

“Oh.” Morgana seems rightfully shocked but thankfully doesn’t seem about to question it. “Well, maybe that has something to do with it? Joker saved the world, maybe he’s in deep anguish or something over being killed by a fly. It is a pretty shitty way to go,” he adds, looking at the spot to Goro’s right where he naturally assumed Akira was sitting. “No offense.” 

“None taken,” says Akira, despite knowing Morgana can’t hear him. Goro turns to look at him, narrowing his eyes a little in consideration. 

“ _Are_ you in deep anguish, Akira?” 

“Uh,” Akira fiddles with his fringe again. “I don’t think so?”

Goro rubs at his temples. Today was an emotional rollercoaster and it was doing jack-shit for his headache. “It’s at the very least somewhere to start,” he says with a heavy breath. “We can check Mementos after-”

“After you sleep,” Akira cuts in, matching the hard look that Goro gives him, clearly not about to back down. “Goro, you’re not going to work today. We’re going to spend the day here, and you’re going back to bed.” He pauses for a moment. “I don’t know how it would work since I can’t seem to touch anything, but maybe we could even-”

“Sleep sounds great,” Goro interrupts with a saccharine smile. 

He reaches for his phone to send a text to Mitsuru, sure that she wouldn’t exactly mind considering she’d been practically begging him to take a few days off ever since the _incident_. But from the corner of his eye he catches Akira visibly pouting, and for the first time since Akira died, Goro finds himself holding back a real smile.


	3. Comfort

When Goro was a child, he imagined his soulmate in a thousand different ways. 

Sometimes he was kind and gentle, a friend who he could sit and watch the ants with on the curbside. Other times he was strong and brave, fearless as he confronted Goro’s foster parents before taking his hand and leading him far far away. His appearance always changed depending on how Goro was feeling that particular day, but it never really mattered in the end. There were only two things that stayed consistent: Akira Kurusu was definitely a boy, and he would look at Goro like he was the most important person in the entire world. 

As he grew older, the fantasizing didn’t stop exactly, but it did change in the way that most childish fantasies do. Time and circumstance making his view of things a bit more complicated. 

On one hand, knowing there was someone in the world who was meant for him brought him a great deal of comfort in his darkest of days. But on the other side of that, he couldn’t help but hate the stigma around the entire thing: the _romance_ about it, and how everyone seemed to view soulmates through a rose-colored lens. It was disgusting. Goro’s life had turned to absolute shit, and his soulmate had never shown his face once, had never _saved_ him. Goro did everything on his own and he was _fine_ with that. He didn’t need _anyone_. And as he grew older and the world dug its claws in him more harshly with every passing day, it was ultimately his frustration over the entire thing that won over the old comfort it used to bring him. 

Besides, what difference did it make who he chose to date? Who had the right to tell him what to do with his life? It should have been _his_ choice. 

...And then he met Akira Kurusu. 

While the fates did seem to laugh at him for a time, his world upended at the very thought of having to inevitably kill his own soulmate. Of having to kill the only person in the world who he had grown to care about, despite all attempts to keep his distance. And yet, his plan ultimately failed when he was outsmarted at his own game because Akira Kurusu, above all else, was his _equal_. His rival, his first friend, and his _soulmate_. Utterly and completely. 

Akira might have shown up late, but in a way, he _had_ saved him after all. 

And by the time they met again, the words on Goro’s wrist no longer represented his lack of choice, but were instead a truth that he no longer wanted to deny. He would _choose_ to be with Akira, time and time again. _That_ was his truth. 

“Are you ready?” Akira asks him now, distracting him from his thoughts. Goro looks up from where he’d been tracing the letters of his soulmark and nods. 

The coffee he’d been nursing sits cold and abandoned on the counter, a cup which Akira had talked him through how to make with an old coffee maker they’d apparently had stored in one of the cabinets. It wasn’t quite the same as Akira’s, even if it tasted nearly exactly the same. 

With his coffee finished, Goro was well aware that he no longer had any excuse to delay the inevitable, especially not after they’d already spent a majority of the day in bed. It was already early evening, the sun only just starting its descent on the horizon, as good a time as any to see what the Metaverse had to offer them. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow?” Akira asks him again, but Goro shakes his head. 

“I don’t want to keep calling out of work,” he says. “I’m fine, I can do this.” He’s well aware of the fact that it sounds as if he’s convincing himself, and judging by the melancholy look Akira gives him, he’s thinking the same. 

But Akira was never one to push, not when he didn’t think Goro was ready. So, when Goro stands from his seat at the kitchen counter and heads over to the front door of their apartment, Akira silently follows. 

They’re almost immediately stopped by Morgana who meets them halfway, a small feline roadblock directly on their path to the door. With the way he looks up at them, intense and resolute, it doesn’t take much to guess his intent as to why. 

“Morgana…” Goro starts slowly, not sure how to tell him that he’d prefer it if he stayed here. It’s not that he disliked the cat, but Goro also had no idea what would happen to Akira once they entered the Metaverse. And if things went to absolute shit, worse than they were already, he didn’t want anyone to have to witness a breakdown that was anything like the one he’d had after Akira died. He’d...rather be alone if it came to that again.

But Morgana interrupts him before he can find the words to explain. 

“You’re not leaving me behind again,” he says in a voice that brokers no argument, a tinge of raw vulnerability in the undertone. 

And that stops him. 

_He cares about him too,_ Goro reminds himself, not knowing why it was so hard for him to remember that Akira might have been _his_ soulmate, but that didn’t mean that other people weren’t allowed to love him in some capacity or another. 

So, wordlessly, Goro grabs the bag Akira always used to tote around Morgana in, which is sitting next to the front door, and holds it awkwardly out to the cat. He’s aware that he probably looks like a stupid robot doing so, but he’s never exactly been the one to do this before. 

He thinks he hears a quiet laugh from behind him but promptly ignores Akira as Morgana steps into the bag. Slipping the straps over his shoulder, Goro finds that it’s a lot heavier and awkward to carry than he was expecting. He has to wonder how the hell Akira managed to tote Morgana around everywhere they went consistently, especially back when they were in high school. 

Still, after a bit of thrashing around in the bag, Morgana eventually pops himself out, resting his paws on Goro’s shoulder like he used to do with Akira. “Are you finished?” Goro asks him with a raised brow and Morgana gives him an offended look. 

“Hey! It’s not my fault that you have to grip everything too hard. Don’t you ever relax?”

Goro chooses to ignore the comment while Akira tries and fails to hold in his laughter. 

And yet, he might never admit it to anyone ever, but as they leave the appartment, he finds Morgana’s warm and solid presence on his shoulder more comforting than he should. 

***

It doesn’t take them long to cross into the Metaverse. 

It’s not much different from when they were teens. Sure the app isn’t exactly the same, instead it’s been transmogrified a bit. The Shadow Ops' own development taking precedent as they attempted to make a universal way for everyone to enter the cognitive world that didn’t involve television sets or a nonexistent hour. The Metaverse itself might have changed a little too, but Crow honestly couldn’t really tell. Everything in the cognitive world was different depending on what it was you were looking for and how you managed to access it. It was everywhere if you knew what you were doing, which was exactly what the Shadow Ops were masters in discovering. 

The particular place that Crow ends up taking them is the multilevel palace structure where the _incident_ with the giant-demon fly had happened. He’d hoped desperately that he’d never have to see this hellscape again...but well, they were here for Akira, in whatever capacity that entailed. 

Still, it’s _jarring_ being back. And the second Crow steps through his gut clenches and he’s torn between wanting to punch something and needing to throw up the contents of his stomach. Loki rattles within the confines of his mind as he wakes, furious all over again. They killed him- _they killed himtheykilledhim_. 

“Akira?!” Mona squeaks with a startled yowl, snapping Crow from the dark confines of his own mind. “I can see him!” He continues, sounding close to tears. “I can see _you_!” And in a burst of speed from the small monster cat, Mona flings himself at Akira and clings onto his leg, erupting in a flurry of purrs. 

Clings...onto…

The world stops moving and Crow can’t _breathe_. 

“Oh, well this is new,” Akira says, calm as anything as he crouches down to gently pat Mona on the head. Because he was real. He was whole. He was _alive_. 

But nononono- he _couldn’t_ be. Crow had held his body, he’d felt his skin go cold. The last time he’d seen his physical body, Satonaka had to physically drag Crow away from it, restraining him as Iori set it on fire. He’d watched in horror, screeching and snarling, as Akira’s body was ignited and turned into ash on the palace floor. This wasn’t- this _couldn’t-_

Numbly, he lifts his stupid helmet up and over his face, desperate for air and more of his vision. 

“Goro…?” Akira says tentatively, meeting his eyes the moment _Crow’s_ helmet clangs uselessly to the ground. Akira is still _Akira_ , no Joker outfit in sight, and without any masks between them, the raw panic Goro’s feeling must be clear. When he can’t find the words to answer, Akira gently nudges Mona away from him and straightens. “Honey?”

“...How is this possible?” Goro croaks, looking at Mona, desperate for answers. 

“Well, the Metaverse is based on cognition, remember?” Mona tells him softly. “If he’s still alive to you...then he will be.” 

And that’s all he needs to hear. 

There’s a pathetic whimpering sound in the air between them, but before Goro can even fully register that it’d come from him, he’s already across the small distance with his arms gripped tightly around Akira. Akira lets out a choked laugh as he’s knocked off balance, only managing to support them both with the help of the wall behind him. 

“I’m...just going to keep a lookout over there,” he distantly hears Mona say. “Don’t mind me.” 

But Mona doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters. Nothing besides the pounding of his heart beneath his palm, beating perfectly in sync with his own. Goro finds himself captivated by it, completely enraptured. Then there’s a hand gently cupping his jaw, and he allows his chin to be tilted just in time for lips to come down searing hot against his own. Then _that_ becomes the only thing that matters. 

There’s deep familiarity in the way that Akira kisses. Gentle and receptive as he lets Goro set the pace, always wanting to make sure _Goro_ was happy. Goro whines into it and presses in harder, desperation fueling his every move and making him tremble with the intensity of it. Akira takes whatever he gives, pressing back with the same fire until hands end up tangled in hair and they’re both breathless and gasping. 

When Goro pulls back, he knows the look on his face must be bathed in reverence. It’s not until Akira wipes a hand beneath his eyes that he even realizes he’s crying. 

“I missed you, fucking asshole,” Goro says, sniffling like the world’s most pathetic idiot. He leans his forehead against Akira’s anyway as their heavy breaths intermingle in the air between them. 

“I was only technically gone for three days,” Akira offers with a small lilt to his lips. 

Goro glares at him. “You _died_ Akira.”

Something crosses his expression then, it’s both soft and sad in a way that slips beneath Goro’s very skin and brushes against his chest cavity. Slowly, Akira leans back in, and this time the kiss is achingly gentle. A quiet fire makes its way through his veins, even as his heart aches for a reason he can’t explain. He clutches onto the cloth of Akira’s shirt, terrified that he might slip from between his fingers and vanish again. 

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but we should probably stop,” Akira says after an unknowable amount of time has passed. Could have been minutes, could have been days. Goro couldn’t give two fucks, he’d stay here for the rest of his life if he could. 

So, Goro kisses him again. And again. And _again_. He peppers kisses along his jaw, and gets lost in the familiar taste of him in a way he never thought he’d be able to again. He becomes distantly aware that he’s shaking, and without allowing a breath of distance between them, he slots his head against Akira’s chest so he can get lost in the sound of his impossibly beating heart. 

“Goro…” Akira sighs and holds him against him, carding his fingers through his hair. “It’s going to be okay,” he soothes, and although there’s no logic or reasoning backing the words, with Akira solid and warm against him, Goro is able to find comfort in them anyway. 

“Can I say something!?” Mona cuts in with a yowl, having returned at some point, and Goro turns his head enough to offer the cat a pointed glare. 

“Yeah, sure Mona,” Akira says, “what’s up?” And for as much as Goro would like to stay like this forever, he’d really rather not have a conversation while being coddled in front of an audience. Still, the sudden cold permeates him the moment he steps away from Akira, bone-deep and terrifying. Almost immediately he moves back behind Akira so he can wrap his hands around his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. When Akira leans into him, Goro considers the position to be vastly superior to the former. 

“...I don’t think fighting anything in here is going to help,” Mona says after a pause, giving Goro an exasperated look that he pointedly ignores. “Whatever _this_ is, it clearly has to do with you two. So, if you’re asking me, I think you need to figure this out for yourselves.”

Goro has figured as much. In the spaces between breaths, laying back on his bed earlier this morning with Akira hovering above him, for a moment he felt like he could _feel_ him. Not physically, and not in any explainable way, but his soulmark buzzed and tingled, and when Goro closed his eyes he could just barely catch a hint of the bond binding them together. Unbreakable and eternal. 

There’d been a small part of Goro that had been hoping that while exploring the halls of the palace they’d miraculously, _impossibly_ , come across Akira’s body, returned from ash by some wonder of the Metaverse. Then, through some trick of nature, they’d manage to shove Akira’s soul right back in, and it’d be like nothing ever happened. 

He’s well aware of how stupid it sounds. 

“Did you know this was going to happen Mona?” Akira asks, his tone thoughtful and completely serious for once. 

“Well, of course I didn’t _know_ ,” Mona says a bit defensively. “But I thought I’d be able to get a better reading on the situation once we crossed over to the Metaverse. And I did.” He tilts his head then, as if considering the both of them. “There is something I’m unsure about though...and that’s how much the cognitive world still has an effect on reality.”

Tapping his fingers thoughtfully against Akira’s waist, Goro considers this. “You’re suggesting that Akira’s presence here could change how he's perceived in the real world. In the same way that you can’t be understood until someone hears you speak in the Metaverse.”

“Exactly,” Mona says, looking satisfied that he’d understood. 

It wasn’t a bad idea, to at least see if Akira changed at all once they exited the cognitive world. They would have to leave eventually anyway, so Goro knows it’s incredibly pathetic and illogical of him to be so hesitant over the prospect of leaving. Still, it’s incredibly hard to think with Akira’s solid weight against him, making Goro’s indecision absolutely _all_ his fault. 

Goro steps back and ignores the sudden chill permeating his traitorous body as he turns to address Akira from a respectable distance. “Thoughts?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Akira offers with a shrug. 

He gives him a nod of agreement, and yet he can’t quite make himself reach for his phone. At least, not yet. Deep down in the depths of his soul, he is innately aware that this could very well be the last time he ever sees Akira as he should be: alive and whole. Pure blind optimism has led their excursion thus far, but Goro has been, and always will be, a realist. 

It’s for that very reason that he ignores Akira’s questioning stare as he moves forward and places one single chaste kiss against his lips. Simple, fleeting, and yet with a tenderness he very seldom ever allowed himself to show. In those three terrible days without him, it was one of the many things he wished he’d done more. 

And it’s then, while he’s only just pulling away from Akira and seeing the blind adoration mirroring his own in his slate-gray eyes, that Goro finally allows himself to pull his phone from his pocket. Without looking away from him, he exits the Nav through muscle memory alone and closes his eyes to commit the last of Akira’s warmth to memory as the world warps around them. 

The first thing he registers is the sudden cold gripping at his skin. This, he had expected. 

The second thing he registers, when finally allowing his eyes to open, is that Akira is gone. 

Completely. Utterly. _Gone_. 

Panic grips at his heart, startling in its pure intensity. He can’t breathe, can’t think. “...Akira?” He chokes, desperately scanning the area for any sign of him. The stupid little useless organ in his chest attempts to twist and choke him, blood rushing through his ears. “ _Akira!_?” This can’t be happening, not again _notagainnotagain_ -

“Akechi!” He hears distantly, from what might as well be a million miles away. Insignificant. Unimportant to the pounding of his own heart. “Akechi, _calm down_!” 

“ ** _Shut up_ **!” He snaps, grabbing at his head. It’s happening all over again, the blood on the floor of that godforsaken palace, the dead look in his eyes so much like his mother when he walked in on her-

“ _Akechi_ !” Morgana calls, only barely managing to break through the haze. “ _Listen_! After we defeated Maruki you vanished too! And I was gone for a few days after the group defeated Yaldabaoth. But we _both_ came back!” Slowly his words start to sink in, and Goro’s hands fall from his head. “Even Akira took three days to come back after he died right?” Morgana continues as Goro stares at him numbly. Through the deafening sound of his still pulsing heart, it faintly registers in his head that Morgana’s eyes were glassy again. _He cares about him too_ , Goro has to remind himself once again. This wasn’t Morgana’s fault. Goro wasn’t alone in this. 

“He can still come back,” Goro offers, voice empty even to his own ears. 

“Yeah,” Morgana says in agreement. His ears flatten and he looks away, as if he’s unsure about saying something. “He held onto your glove you know,” he says after a moment, instantly causing Goro’s heart to climb up his chest cavity to lodge itself in his throat. “He never gave up on you, so maybe we shouldn't give up on him so quickly either.“

Goro won’t cry. Not here, not now. Not in the middle of some city street where anyone can see him. 

“You’re right,” he chokes out despite all his attempts to keep his tone empty. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and allows his frustration and anger to replace his every emotion like he used to, a long time ago. Anger, at least, was easy. “He’ll come back,” he says, opening his eyes to glare intently at Morgana. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll kill him.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and makes his way back to their apartment as Morgana scrambles after him with a startled sound. 

***

Later that same night, Goro’s lying awake in bed. 

There was no temper tantrum, and no bringing out his meager selection of alcohol, not this time. And as he lays there, both emotionally drained and restless, Morgana’s weight clambers up on top of him and Goro doesn’t push him away. 

“We just have to wait,” Morgana says, curling up on his chest to sleep. 

Slowly, Goro raises a hand and places it on Morgana’s back. He smooths down his fur and finds that it relaxes him a little. As Morgana starts purring, Goro is reminded of the same feeling he used to get when he’d look at his soulmark. 

Comfort. 

And although his bed is empty besides the cat on his chest, sleep does not evade him that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	4. Vacation

The report he’s working on is almost halfway finished.

Goro knows it’s probably not his absolute best work, but finds himself satisfied with it anyway since he’s finishing it in a quarter of the time one of these would normally take him. While reaching for his terrible tasting coffee he’d bought at the 777 Mart on his way to work, the sleeve of his shirt pulls up a little, revealing the still dark-inked letters scratched across his wrist. With a frown, he yanks his sleeve back down to cover it, just in time for Mitsuru to step into his small office with her arms crossed and gaze piercing. 

“Akechi,” she says, skipping right past pleasantries. All business as always, which was something Goro really appreciated about her. “I really think you would do well to take some time off.”

He knows that she means well, but the words still strike a blow on this pride. No matter how he was feeling, he was still surpassing his normal workflow. Couldn’t she see that?

“I understand your concerns, Mitsuru-san,” he says, not bothering to mask his discontent “But I assure you I’m not letting what happened impact my work.”

“It’s not your work I’m worried about,” she says with a sigh, her arms falling to her sides. “Akechi, you’ve hardly left the office since he died.” His gut turns at hearing it spoken so bluntly in the air between them, but he tries his best not to let it show on his face as she continues. “And while I’m glad you decided to take a day for yourself the other day, I don’t think that’s enough. While I do admire your work ethic, this can’t be healthy.”

Goro frowns, not really fond of the personal turn to the conversation. “I find it’s...easier to stay here than to be back at my apartment,” he says slowly, respecting her too much for flat out lies. “It’s rather empty now, unfortunately.”

“That’s...understandable,” she responds, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Don’t you have any friends you can stay with?” 

For a moment Goro wants to _laugh_ , the idea of him having friends was always something of an impossible concept. But he supposes that wasn’t exactly true anymore, was it? He finds himself thinking of Ann. Ann, who just so happened to have the unfortunate side effect of sharing a place with Ryuji, who over time he had learned to get along with, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was someone Goro wanted around while he was... _coping_. If he honestly asked, he’s sure Ann would kick him out, but there’s something else that stops him from going to her. He’d...spent a lot of time dealing with his feelings alone throughout his life, and Morgana had already been helpful enough. He was managing just fine as he was.

“Thank you for your concern,” he settles on saying with a polite nod. “However, I’ll be fine.”

By the way that she looks at him, it’s clear that wasn’t the answer she’d been looking for. 

“Okay,” she says with another tired sounding sigh. “I’m not going to pressure you.”

It seems as if she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes her leave, looking at him one last time as if he’d change his mind, before walking back out his office door. 

Goro goes back to work, furiously reading through field reports and compiling them into documents at an even faster rate than he’d been before. He normally finds this kind of work relaxing in a way, but he can’t seem to turn his mind off. The typing against his keyboard keys steadily grows harsher as he finds himself distracted. He really needed to kill something. It probably wasn’t the most conventional method but killing things in the Metaverse always at least helped him stop _thinking_. He could have been on a fucking mission right now, but _no._ He denied it because he still has no idea what the hell that would do to his connection with Akira. Akira- who vanished and _still_ hasn’t come back, and yet continues to have complete control over his life anyway. Stupid fucking _Kurusu-_

“Hey honey, you miss me?”

His fingers halt on the keys as his entire body stiffens. Unsure of what to do with all the emotions running through his head, he settles for blaming them all on Akira and turns to him with a scowl. 

“ _Akira_ ,” he grits through his teeth, watching with satisfaction as Akira’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“ _Okay_...I’m getting the sense that you’re angry and I’m not really sure what I did.”

It’s infuriating how he doesn’t even know why Goro could possibly be upset. Doesn’t seem to comprehend the fact that while he could just disappear apparently, Goro had to sit here for days worrying and grieving, only for Akira to come back like it was _nothing_. 

“ _Where. Did. You. Go._ ” Goro bites out, his fingertips digging into the meat of his thigh. 

“Uh...I’m not really sure?” Akira says, reaching up to tug at his fringe again. “You kissed me back in the Metaverse, and now I’m here. Why? How much time has passed?”

“Four days.”

Akira stares at him for a moment, as if letting that sink in. “Oh,” he says, eventually. 

_“Oh?”_ Akechi repeats back in disbelief. “Are you not concerned about this at all!?”

“I mean, I’m here now. “ He shrugs, an action that only feeds into Goro’s overwhelming frustration. If Akira notices he doesn’t show it, for in the next moment, his gaze is busy taking in Goro’s fairly tiny office space. “Huh, actually I don’t think I’ve been in here since that time I snuck in to _‘bring you your lunch’_ ,” he concludes and _winks_. 

Goro has the sudden urge to punch him. Of course, even if Akira wasn’t currently a ghost, he’d still most definitely be into that. 

“Are you incapable of taking _anything_ seriously?!” 

“That depends,” Akira purrs, leaning down the same way he had the last time he was here, all that time ago. He goes to place a hand on Goro’s thigh despite his current ghost status, only for them to both freeze when his hand doesn’t go right through. Goro stares down at the solid hand on his thigh as if it’s a foreign object, not quite able to comprehend what he’s seeing. The warmth of Akira’s hand permeates through his clothing and he _feels_ the pressure of it against his skin. That _should_ be impossible. Unless...

“Is...everything okay, Akechi?”

Goro’s gaze shoots up to see Mitsuru standing in his doorway again. Akira scrambles away, and yet, Mitsuru’s gaze glances right past him with no sign of acknowledgment. Which, of course, only adds more questions to the growing cacophony in Goro’s head. Instead, Mitsuru’s focus rests intently on Goro, _likely_ because he’d gotten a little too heated earlier when he was supposed to be working. Yet another thing that was entirely _Akira’s_ fault. 

“Ah yes, sorry, phone call,” Goro tells her, smiling pleasantly. She eyes him dubiously, but in the quiet ocean of questions swirling around in his mind, he makes a rather impulsive decision. “While you’re here Mitsuru-san, I think I will take you up on that offer. A vacation does sound quite nice.”

“Oh, of course,” she says in obvious surprise. “How long were you thinking?”

“A week should be plenty.”

“Okay.” Mitsuru nods, offering him a sad yet supportive smile. “Try to get some rest, Akechi. You’re free to go home for the day.”

“Thank you,” he says genuinely. He owed so much to her already and he wasn’t sure how exactly to handle her kindness. But he had slightly more pressing matters at the moment, and so the moment Mitsuru takes her leave and is no longer in sight, he turns to Akira. 

“What just happened?” Akira blurts before Goro can so much as get a word in. He clearly was as startled and confused as Goro himself was, and seeing him so lost immediately causes all the anger and frustration to fade away. 

Without a word, Goro reaches out a hand to him and when Akira takes it within his own, Goro feels the warm sensation of his skin pressed against his. It’s an achingly familiar feeling. A feeling that makes Goro split between feeling like he’s about to cry, and wanting to pull away and hide his face forever. But instead, he finds himself lost in the sight of their hands as Akira laces their fingers together, Goro’s heart fluttering weakly. 

“Mitsuru-san didn’t see me,” Akira says softly, running a finger over Goro’s knuckles. 

“Do you feel any different from before?” He asks, mind hazy and thoroughly distracted. 

“Not really?” Akira pauses thoughtfully and with his unoccupied hand, reaches over to touch Goro’s desk. They watch in silence as his hand ends up sitting flat against the surface, Goro’s fingers tightening slightly on the hand still held in his. “Oh, well that’s new,” Akira says matter-of-factly. 

“Are you able to interact with any other objects?”

In response to Goro’s question, Akira lifts a pen from the desk as if it’s nothing. As if he’s really here. _Alive_. 

“Do you think she just...ignored me?” Akira suggests weakly, not sounding as if he believes it himself. Goro shakes his head. 

“That wouldn’t be like her,” he says slowly, trying to puzzle all this out in his head. He had a suspicion on what could possibly be going on, but he’d need more to test his theory. “Try walking into the other room,” he tells Akira, letting go of his hand despite how much he doesn’t want to. 

“And if anyone does happen to see me?”

Goro raises a brow and offers him a saccharine smile. “Then figure it out.”

Akira gives him that look that tells him he’s definitely calling him an asshole in his head, and Goro’s smile widens. With a roll of his eyes, Akira listens to him anyway and makes his way out of his office door. 

Even though he’s out of sight, Goro finds himself much calmer than he’d been last time they tested this. Instead, he focuses on the feeling in his mark, sensing the warm burning feeling grow stronger as the seconds tick by. It’s only when his wrist feels as if it’s burning from the inside out that Akira _pops_ back into his office in the same way he had before. 

“Okay, well good to know that’s still a thing,” Akira says, once again hunched over and practically wheezing for breath. “I also can confirm that no one’s able to see me, _however_ , if I touch them they react,” he says with a sudden devious smirk. “They just don’t know where it came from.” 

Goro ignores the implications of that statement, not wanting to know what Akira managed to do at his workplace in the mere minutes he’d been gone. 

“Interesting,” he voices instead, tracing the lines on his palm as some more lines in his theory connect. 

“What are you thinking, detective?” Akira asks, coming over to sit on his desk, and Goro notes that he once again _does not_ fall through. 

“I’d surmise that this has something to do with cognition,” Goro tells him. If the change happened only after Akira revealed himself to be alive in the Metaverse, then it would be logical to conclude that it was connected somehow. “We should probably go back and see Morgana.”

“To see if he sees me?” Akira asks, catching onto his line of thinking. 

“Correct.”

Akira nods, and in another display mirrored from that time he was here a small lifetime ago, he grabs Goro’s tie and pulls him up into a kiss. Goro instinctively leans into it, not caring what anyone might say if they happened to walk by. His world devolving into _Akira Kurusu_ and nothing else once more. 

“Alright detective,” Akira breathes against his lips when he pulls back. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless :3


	5. Home

The apartment that he and Akira shared hadn’t always been _theirs_. First, it was Goro’s. 

It was the first apartment he’d ever purchased for himself, the one he’d had previously was a _gift_ from Shido, so moving into a place all on his own was a giant step forward. It should have felt different. And yet, from the moment Goro stepped into that apartment after the papers had been signed, it still hadn’t felt like home to him. He slept there, sure. It was a roof over his head and somewhere to call his own. But it’d always seemed empty, _barren_ , not much different from the place that Shido had rented out for him previously. And between the bad memories relating back to _that_ place, and the nightmares related to the foster homes he’d been tossed through, Goro soon realized that at some point he'd forgotten what having an actual home felt like.

...And then Akira moved in.

When Akira had first asked him to move in together, Goro hadn’t thought much of it. At that point, it’d been several months since they’d started dating, and Akira had been staying at Goro’s apartment more days than not. It made sense, considering Akira had been staying with Ann and Ryuji at their place, at least since he’d left his parent’s house without so much as a plan the very moment he graduated high school. In Goro’s opinion, it was stupid that they hadn’t already been living together. But everyone always made it seem as if moving in together was some giant step in their relationship when in reality they were already _soulmates_ so what the hell was the difference anyway?

Once the question had been asked and they decided to finally bite the bullet and move in together, Akira had come back the next day with _things_. Not much, but enough to put his mark on the place. Clothing items, some books, his coffee maker, little things that slowly made the apartment seem less empty. Of course, he and Morgana always came as a package deal. Even if Goro and the cat had never been on the best of terms, it was still… _nice_ to know that he’d always be around. And over time, Goro’s definition of having a home changed. It was never about the structure of the place, but was instead about always having somewhere to go back to. Where he could be comfortable. Safe.

Goro would never tell him this, but over time he came to discover that wherever Akira was, _was_ home. 

Which is why after he died...Goro didn’t want to be at their apartment anymore. He _couldn’t_ be there. It was too empty, too insubstantial in comparison to what it once was. Without Akira, he didn’t know where to go. 

It’s also why, despite nothing changing, the moment he opens their apartment door with Akira back at his side, it becomes _home_ again.

“Akechi,” Morgana almost instantly greets him as they walk in, jumping down from where he’d likely been sleeping on the back of the couch. “What are you doing back- _Akira_!?”

The cat’s surprise is palpable as he comes to a full stop, his bright blue gaze entirely focused on Akira. That at least answered Goro’s first question. Morgana _could_ see him, which meant... _hm_. 

As Goro briefly organizes his thoughts on the matter, Akira offers his cat a casual little wave. 

“Hey, Morgana.”

That’s apparently enough to knock Morgana out of his momentary stupor, for in the next instant he’s practically bouncing on his feet. 

“I knew you’d come back! And I can see you!” He says, puffing out his chest proudly as he turns to Goro. “See Akechi, I told you!”

Akira lets out a light laugh. “Didn’t want to believe it, huh?” He asks Goro with a slight grin. 

Goro rolls his eyes. “Thought I’d finally been rid of you for good,” he says without thinking. When what he’d just said registers, he grimaces and digs his fingers painfully into the bridge of his nose as guilt claws at his stomach. Of all the _stupid_ , _moronic_ things for him to say. “I didn’t mean that-“

“I know you didn’t,” Akira cuts in before he can even finish his thought. Way too forgiving, just as always. Reaching towards him, Akira tugs Goro’s hand away from his face. Goro offers no resistance, only watches as Akira intertwines their fingers together once more. “Goro, _relax_ ,” he soothes, and Goro takes a deep breath, doing his best to listen. Deep down he knows that he and Akira used to trade insulting banter with each other all the time, so this wasn’t exactly anything new. Still...things weren’t exactly the same as they used to be, were they?

Before Goro can think too much on that very sobering thought, Morgana catches his attention with a sharp sound of surprise. “Wait, are you touching him!?”

“Oh yeah, about that...” Goro begins, preparing to bring back up the subject they were currently here for, trailing off as he watches Morgana launch himself across the room and straight into Akira’s arms. Akira releases his hold on Goro’s hand and laughs as he catches the small ball of fur in his arms, Morgana's paws resting against his chest as he nuzzles him in a mess of purrs. A spike of absurd jealousy pierces Goro at the sight of them together, which he knows is absolutely ridiculous. He does his best to quiet it, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers restlessly against the material of his petticoat. 

“Does this mean, you’re back?” Morgana says to Akira, pulling back to stare him in the face. “For good?”

“No one can see him, Morgana,” Goro interrupts their little bonding moment before Akira can answer and they both turn to him. “Only us.”

Morgana blinks, clear confusion lining his feline expression. 

“Wait, no one?”

“Not even on the subway,” Goro answers him with a nod. It’d been an interesting walk back to their apartment. Since there were so many people around, it was the perfect opportunity to test the abilities Akira had claimed to have at the office. Akira was maybe having a little too much fun being an absolute nightmare to the general populace, but it was at the very least entertaining. “He can interact with people and objects,” Goro continues, “but they act like he’s not even there.”

“I’m also still attached to Goro because of our _special bond,_ ” Akira adds conversationally, causing Goro to shoot him a pointed look. 

“Don’t call it that.”

Akira visibly pouts, giving off the impression of a kicked puppy.

“Then what would you call it, detective?” 

“A _leash_.”

“I didn’t realize you were into pet-play,” Akira responds without missing a beat, blinking at him innocently. It throws Goro off so much that he’s not even sure how to respond. Of course, Morgana’s the one who ends up speaking up in his place. 

“Wait, what’s pet-play?”

“Nothing!” Goro snaps, shaking off his stupor to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we _please_ try to focus?” With a steep inhale, he focuses the weight of his gaze on Morgana who seems to shrink a bit in Akira’s arms. “Morgana, I assumed that Akira regaining a physical form had something to do with the effect of cognition changing from when we entered and then exited the Metaverse. Could that be possible?”

“Probably?” He says, looking uncertain. “I don’t know, I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before!”

It’s not like Goro can exactly be mad at him for that, he couldn’t expect the cat to know everything. Besides, correlated or not, he had a feeling his hunch was right. 

“I’m curious…” Goro says thoughtfully, resting one of his hands beneath his chin. “If you and I seeing Akira in the Metaverse had this kind of effect on him, do you think it would be possible to enhance the effect if multiple people were to see him?”

Morgana blinks owlishly at him, while Akira continues to remain silent. He had that unreadable look on his face again, the one that, for no matter how long they’d been together, Goro could never read. It was that expression that told him Akira was going through yet another mental web of sorts, and he himself probably wasn’t even sure where his train of thought might lead him. It’s one of the things Goro both loved and hated about him: his unpredictability. 

Akira always kept him on his toes, but it was during times like this that Goro really wished he could see into that head of his. 

“Wait,” says Morgana, acting as Akira’s voice like he used to when they were still teenagers. Just like old times. “Are you suggesting we bring a group of people into the Metaverse? Like our group?”

Goro allows a grin to pull at his lips. “Or the Shadow Ops.”

It’s not that he necessarily wanted to involve his coworkers in his personal affairs, but he had an _idea_. And that idea was quickly forming into a _plan_. 

“You finally want to introduce me to your coworkers?” Akira asks, finally speaking up just to toss him a wry grin. Deflecting with humor. There was almost definitely something on his mind. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Goro says, eyeing him critically. ”All we should have to do is show everyone you’re alive, and it should hypothetically have enough of a cognitive effect to make you appear as such in the real world.” He pauses and his lips tilt into a faux innocent smile. “A party in the Metaverse should accomplish that. I’ll contact Mitsuru.”

He quickly pulls out his phone, knowing his plan was a little insane, and yet so was this entire situation. When it came down to it, sometimes it was best to fight chaos with chaos. And for as much as he disliked formal parties, he had a feeling that this one would be entertaining enough for him to tolerate. 

“Goro, wait,” Akira says, stopping him with a hand on his wrist. When Goro looks at him expectantly he offers a small smile tinged with the slightest hint of melancholy. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Goro slightly inclines his head in agreeance, and Akira turns his gaze to Morgana who had at some point either been placed down or had jumped from Akira’s hold himself. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Morgana says, turning around. “I’m going,” 

It’s not until Morgana has climbed out the window and is gone from sight that Goro finally addresses his boyfriend with a simple, “Yes, Akira?”

Akira gives him another small smile, and fiddles with his hair. _He’s nervous about something_ , Goro thinks, narrowing his eyes. 

“I’ve been thinking...” Akira starts out slowly, and without his control a smirk pulls at Goro’s lips. 

“A stunning feat, I’m sure.”

Akira rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be an ass,” he says, but gives Goro a fond look anyway. “Look, I first appeared when you were trying to hurt yourself, right?”

Goro’s expression instantly falls, and he automatically tenses and hardens his gaze. It wasn’t...the proudest moment of his life, and he immediately feels the need to snap, bite, and defend whatever ounce of pride he had left. But this was _Akira_. So, taking a deep breath, he tries to stay calm. 

“You make it sound worse than it was,” he says stiffly. “I was only after the mark.”

“The mark is on your _wrist_ , Goro.” Akira points out, exasperation seeping into his tone. 

With a frown, Goro looks away. 

Akira sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you remember when we went to visit your mother’s grave?”

Goro’s gaze snaps back at him in confoundment at the sudden topic change. Just yet another moment where he wished he knew what the hell was going on in Akira Kurusu’s head. 

“Of course,” he says after a moment, deciding to go along with it for now. “It was after we’d first started dating, and you refused to let me go anywhere by myself.”

Goro remembers it well. Akira always had loyal puppy tendencies that were as annoying as they were...endearing, even if he’d never admit that out loud. While Goro could admit to trailing Akira quite frequently in the early days, back when he was still trying to gather proof that he really was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, it was after they started dating that they went through a bit of a role reversal. Goro, having vanished for a time after the collapse of the false reality, appeared back in Akira’s life by his own conscious decision. And when Akira had looked at him, it was like Goro was the most important person in the world to him. 

Goro had...never had anyone look at him like that before. 

Naturally, it wasn’t long before they decided to take their... _rivalry,_ as it were, to the next level. And in those first few months, Akira seldom let him out of his sight, as if Goro might go and disappear again. A stupid and inane concept, really. And it got annoying at times, always feeling as if he wasn’t trusted enough to go anywhere by himself. _Not even to his mother’s grave apparently._

Still...it had been a nice feeling. Being wanted. 

At one point, Goro had snapped and asked why Akira continuously followed him around like some kind of loyal dog. And well-

“I just like being with you,” Akira says now, with a fond little smile, the same exact way he had back then. 

“...Is there a point to this?” Goro asks, avoiding his eyes, still unable to grasp how Akira could just come out and _say things_ like that without completely dying from embarrassment. 

With a small sound of affirmation, Akira continues. “If you remember, after you stepped away from her grave, you started back towards the car...but I stayed behind. I needed to say something to her.” _Akira needed to say something to his mother_. Goro looks up, listening intently now. “I...told her that I’d always be here with you. And that she didn’t have to worry anymore, because I’d always be here to protect you.”

Something cold settles in the pit of Goro’s stomach at the admission. Goro didn’t _want_ Akira to protect him. He’d never _asked_ him to. 

And yet…

And yet, that was exactly how Akira _died_. 

“You think I need protecting?” Goro asks slowly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Of all the stupid fucking ideas Akira got in his head, he always had to play the _hero_. 

“Not from other people,” Akira quickly backpedals, eyes widening as he realizes that he’d fucked up somewhere. “Look, the point I’m getting at is, I think it might be possible that I came back to make sure that you’d be okay without me.”

And at that, Goro finds his anger suddenly gone, as if it’d never been there at all. Instead, a numbness permeates his very essence, Akira’s words sinking in and their meaning digging like knives into his skin. 

“Why are you telling me this now?” Goro asks, swallowing thickly. 

“Because Goro,” Akira says with a weak little smile, “you’re rushing into all of this with the intent of bringing me back. And I just...don’t want you to be hurt again if it doesn’t work.” With a deep breath, Akira steps closer and Goro lets him gently put his hand on his shoulder. Trembles weakly as Akira slowly trails the warmth of his hands in a burning path up his neck until they’re cupping his jaw and tilting his head until he has nowhere to look but him. “I disappeared for four days last time,” he gently continues, stroking the sides of his face with his thumbs. “And if it happens again for longer, or if I never come back...I need to know that you’re going to be okay.”

“I’ll manage,” Goro chokes out after a moment, unsure of how the fuck else he’s supposed to answer. Akira just continues to give him a sad look, and so he takes a deep breath and strengthens his resolve. For him. “Fine. I’ll...wait a few days before I contact Mitsuru.”

He doesn’t see Akira’s smile, but he feels it when he leans in to press his lips against his. Soft and achingly gentle. 

It’s a kiss that sets the tone for the rest of the evening, even as they tumble into bed, breathless and shaking. Clothes are removed slowly, as if every moment they have together is as sacred as it is fleeting. When they come together as one, it’s soft and gentle in a way that’s reminiscent of their first time. 

And yet, in ways, it also feels a bit like it’s their last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brb crying


	6. Per aspera ad astra

Three days later, it’s in the middle of the afternoon.

Goro is sitting back on the couch, book in hand with Akira’s head resting on his lap. Every once in a while, he reaches down and runs his fingers through the mess of curls, smiling to himself in amusement when Akira practically purrs like a cat at the attention. 

It’s peaceful, calm, and everything he could have ever asked for. Still, every moment he spends with Akira can’t help but feel fleeting. It tinges their every interaction with a degree of melancholy that he can’t quite shake off. In certain moments, he finds himself being reminded of their time spent together in Maruki’s false reality. In a way, it feels a bit like it’s a role reversal. How back then he’d thought he’d been nothing more than a cognition brought back to life, but well, then he awoke after the reality collapsed, so clearly he had misjudged his own stubborn refusal to die. But Akira hadn’t known that. And yet, Goro had been adamant that he made the choice to let him go because death was far better than living a lie. 

This situation with Akira...isn’t the same by any standards. Yet, it’s just similar enough for Goro to wonder what his choice would have been if he’d been in Akira’s place and had to decide between staying in a fabricated reality with him, or returning to the true reality without him. 

Somehow, he’s not really sure of his answer. But he knows what it’s _supposed_ to be. 

“I informed Mitsuru of our plan,” he tells Akira without preamble, watching as he turns his head to blink up at him in surprise. “She’s setting it up for tomorrow.”

“That soon?” Akira asks.

“I told her I’d prefer it if it was sooner rather than later,” Goro admits. “I have...considered all possible outcomes, and I’m ready Akira.” He pauses, giving himself a chance to breathe. “I’m almost certain that it’ll work, and if it goes horribly wrong then well...there’s no use delaying the inevitable.”

“Almost certain, huh?” Akira asks, sitting up. “Is that optimism I hear?”

Goro allows a smile to pull at his lips. He leans in as if he’s about to kiss him, but stops a hair's breadth away. “ _Per aspera ad astra_ ,” he breathes against his lips, grin sharpening when he feels Akira shudder. He pulls away, Akira’s eyes tracking his mouth the entire time. 

“Latin?” Akira asks, tone thicker than usual. 

“Correct.” Satisfied with himself, Goro leans back into the couch and crosses his legs. “Through hardships to the stars’. To paraphrase, it’s the aspiration to reach the unattainable, and to realize the impossible.” 

Akira’s gaze finally trails up to meet his eyes, and a grin pulls at his features. 

“The impossible, huh? I think we’ve managed that a few times before.”

Goro makes a small gesture for Akira to come closer, and he does so without hesitation. Once he’s in range, Goro tugs at the material of his shirt until their foreheads bump together. 

“Perhaps,” Goro purrs, finally giving in and closing the distance between them. Akira quickly melts into it, allowing Goro to set the pace as they get into the beginnings of another leisurely makeout session. That is, until Akira pulls away to Goro’s displeasure. 

“Goro...before we go,” he says, suddenly looking uncharacteristically nervous. “There’s something I want to give you. Come with me?”

Despite finding returning to their previous activity to be much preferable to going much of anywhere, Goro finds his curiosity piqued. Which is exactly how he finds himself trailing after Akira into their bedroom 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” He asks, crossing his arms as he watches Akira root through their closet, looking as if he was searching his coat pockets for something. 

“Just...give me a minute.”

After a few more moments, the silence is punctuated by a pleased sound from Akira. He immediately shoves something into his pocket before turning, still attempting to hide whatever he had in hand, and all at once it hits Goro exactly what was probably going on. 

His heart flutters pathetically in his chest as he watches Akira nervously fiddle with his hair again. 

“I probably shouldn’t really ask this now, considering everything,” Akira says, offering a small smile. “But if things end up...not working out, I don’t want this to have to be a thing that you find on your own. You probably have no idea what I’m-”

“You’re going to ask me to marry you,” Goro blurts, unable to listen to Akira fumble through whatever he was trying to say when it was already completely obvious what was happening. 

Akira blinks at him. 

“Oh...wow. Well, you really took the surprise out of it didn’t you?”

Goro rolls his eyes and gestures with his hand for Akira to continue, starting to get a little impatient now. His heart was jumping around inside his chest cavity and it was hell on his nerves. 

“Well go on then, ask.”

“Um, right,” Akira starts slowly, for some reason looking _more_ nervous. Goro couldn’t for the life of him understand why. If anything, he was making this easier for him. “Goro,” he says, dropping to one knee. “I’m in love with you and I want you to marry me. Please say yes.”

Goro steps forward and gently takes the ring box that Akira practically thrusts at him.

“That was the most disgraceful proposal possible,” he comments fondly as he inspects the ring. It’s simple and unflashy, and entirely _him_. His stupid heart once again decides to try to climb its way up his throat, and he does his best to swallow it back down. 

“I swear that was supposed to have gone better,” Akira says sheepishly, getting up from the ground. “You guessing it threw me off my game.”

“Would you have rather I pretended to be surprised?” He steps forward and kisses him anyway, gentle and chaste, before he can respond. Akira had already asked him, so he wasn’t allowed to take it back. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

“Oh, okay good,” Akira says, his eyes wide as if he’s actually _surprised_. “ _Great_. That’s really great.”

“Akira,” Goro says, fond amusement carried through his tone. 

“Sorry, I’m just happy. Really happy.” And he beams at him, as if Goro is the best thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

From deep within his mind an old memory rises to the surface. Or perhaps it’d be more apt to call it a dream, a fantasy even. Goro is seven years old again in a life gone from terrible to tragedy, standing with a vision of a nondescript boy, faded around the edges, but one thousand percent his soulmate. The boy is fearless, gentle, _brave_ in a way Goro never could be, not back then. Slowly, in his mind's eye, the image of the boy turns into a childhood version of Akira, and he looks at Goro just like he is now, like Goro is the most important person in the world. 

Goro wills himself not to cry, but his heart is once again lodged in his throat. From then to today, he couldn’t imagine a day when he wasn’t _completely, undeniably, wholly_ in love with Akira Kurusu.

“But okay,” Akira continues, oblivious to the sappy edge Goro’s thoughts have taken. “So, I guess that covers that. Now, all we have to do is the impossible.”

Goro smiles at him, impossibly fond and unguarded. 

“Doesn’t seem that daunting.”

“For us?” Akira says, matching his expression. “Never.”

***

Exactly one day later, the two of them are back in the Metaverse, preparing for a _party_ of all things. Goro would call it a certifiably insane plan if it wasn’t one of his own making, but it was at the very least going well so far. And it would continue to go well. 

It had to. 

In order to avoid all semblance of suspicion, Akira and Goro have to be the last to arrive to the room where the party’s being held. They hang off in one of the side corridors of the palace as the rest of the Shadow Ops file in and are led to the right.

It’s supposed to be a simple party, but Goro doesn’t see it as such. To him, it’s a _mission_ , one that was vital and that they needed to succeed at no matter the cost. 

The mission was as follows: _Prove_ that Akira was alive to the entire staff of his branch of the Shadow Ops. 

If everything went according to plan, Akira would cognitively exist in the minds of enough people to enhance his corporeal form to the extent that he could be seen by any ordinary person. If it didn’t go exactly as planned, then it was possible Akira would only be seen by the people who saw him here, which Mitsuru had assured him, they could work with. _Somehow_. And if everything went badly- well it was also possible that much like a rubberband, getting yanked back and forth from the real world to the Metaverse could have a _snapping effect_ , which would break their link and potentially cause Akira to be lost to him forever. 

...That was what Goro theorized happened last time. Akira had been sent back to wherever it was that souls were supposed to go, only to somehow find his way back through the power of their soul-link. 

The problem was, Goro had no idea how strong that link was or how much it could take before it would break like it was supposed to. Then his mark would fade forever. 

“This might just be the most insane plan I’ve ever heard,” Akira tells him rightly as Goro finishes going through the last of the details with him. “I have to say, you coming up with this on your own is pretty hot.”

Goro scowls, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. It only occurs to him now that he probably should have brought a change of clothes since his Crow outfit wasn’t exactly party attire. He’d at the very least tossed aside the helmet and the gauntlets almost immediately after coming through. Akira, meanwhile, was still very much in the same casual clothing he’d worn the day he died, despite crossing into the Metaverse. 

“You say that about everything I do,” Goro points out, to which Akira offers him a cheeky grin. 

“Only because it’s true.”

With a roll of his eyes, he asks, “Can you at least try to behave yourself tonight?”

“Of course,” Akira shrugs. “All I have to do is pretend not to be dead. Pretty standard behavior.”

Goro gives him a look, beginning to get annoyed with how casually he was taking this. If everything went right, the plan could _still_ fail. And if it went _wrong_...there was no guarantee they could gather another sizable group of people who could freely enter the Metaverse again. This could very well be their only shot at bringing Akira back. 

“Mitsuru informed me that she briefed the people we were with the night you...died,” Goro says, getting the conversation back on track. “And no one but them knew the specifics of what happened. So _remember_ ,” he continues with a pointed glare, “if anyone asks, you were seriously injured and went into a comatose state.”

“A coma, got it.”

“Which you are no longer in.”

“Not currently in a coma, understood.” With that, Akira steps forward and runs his hands down his arms soothingly. “Goro, _relax_. Deep breaths. It’s going to be fine.”

Almost instantly, like clockwork, Akira’s touch calms him a little. Taking a deep breath, Goro focuses on him and nothing else for a moment, his muscles slowly starting to relax. 

“Better?” Akira asks and Goro gives a small nod. “You going to be okay in there?”

And Goro almost wants to laugh because he was the one who was supposed to be in control of the situation. But _fuck_ , he was nervous. Nothing like the Ex-Detective Prince to get fucking stage fright, or whatever the hell this sickening feeling in his gut was. 

“Sorry,” he says, regaining his head again. “I think we’ve wasted enough time, don’t you? It’s about time we showed ourselves.” He turns towards the room, looking back at Akira with an overly pleasant smile. “We are the guests of honor, after all.” 

Akira gives him a worried look, clearly not buying his act. For a moment, Goro thinks he’s going to refuse, but then he gives a slight nod. “After you, detective.”

And so, together they turn the corner into the palace room turned makeshift Shadow Ops party. A small makeshift podium sits at the front, and tables are set up all around the room with drinks being served. It’s not the most extravagant party Goro has ever seen, certainly not up to Mitsuru’s normal standards, but it’s certainly impressive considering she had to find a way to get this all into the cognitive world in such a short amount of time.

At least their temporary venue is safe despite it being a part of the Metaverse. It is still the first floor, so any lingering shadows are bound to be pathetic weaklings, and even the strongest of shadows wouldn’t dare be brave enough to attack so many powerful persona users gathered in one place. 

Spotting Mitsuru near the podium, Goro gives the signal for her to start. 

Almost immediately she moves to stand behind the podium, and all the voices in the room fade into silence the moment she addresses the crowd. 

“Thank you, everyone, for coming,” she says, her voice ringing out across the room despite her lack of microphone. “Today we’re here to celebrate the elimination of an incredibly powerful shadow at the hands of a small team unprepared to face such an opponent. It could have gone very badly for all of us had they failed, but they teamed together and defeated the shadow before it could do any real harm. May the team who defeated Beezlebub please step up here with me.”

“Guess that’s our cue,” Akira leans in to murmur to him. 

Goro gives a slight nod of agreement and together they make their way up to the front. The room is relatively silent, save for one part of a badly whispered conversation Goro catches.

“ _Beezlebub_? Isn’t that the giant fly? I think I have him as a persona.”

“Not now, Souji!” Hanamura whispers loudly in response. “...But you’ll have to show me later.”

Goro rolls his eyes, sometimes he really did wonder about some of his coworkers. 

As they approach her, Mitsuru gives them a kind nod and a smile. As Iori, Yamagishi, and Satonaka come up to the front together, it’s easy to see that while they attempt to remain professional, the three of them keep glancing at Akira out of the corner of their eye. It’s something that doesn’t stop even as they stand around the podium and Mitsuru continues her speech. It’s as if they can’t quite believe he’s actually there. Goro isn’t sure what Mitsuru told them, but he can’t think of any explanation that would explain away the fact that Akira had at one point been nothing more than smoke and ash. Goro himself could still hardly believe he was really here. 

And yet, he was. 

As Mitsuru continues to talk, her speech formal and clearly well-rehearsed, Goro finds his gaze slipping to Akira. 

Akira Kurusu had always been one to keep himself hidden, but Joker had been the opposite side of that. Completely different in every conceivable way. And yet, looking at Akira now: standing in his casual clothes with every eye in the room on him, both glasses and mask gone from his face, Goro’s chest constricts. It’s a weird thought to have, but Goro’s suddenly stricken by how natural he looks under the attention. 

If he had really wanted to, Akira Kurusu could have had the entire world under his thumb. And yet, he’d chosen Goro. 

Goro was lucky to have known him. 

***

After Mitsuru’s speech, the two of them end up at a table with Iori, Yamagishi, Satonaka, and Amagi. Had this been a normal party, Goro would have made his way over to the bar to drink alone, or perhaps traded pleasantries with a few of his coworkers, leaving before things dragged on for too long. But this night is different. Immediately after Mitsuru’s speech ended, Akira took his hand and tugged him along to the first table in sight. And of course, probably because he was _Akira_ , the others quickly filled in the unoccupied seats around him. 

“So wait,” Amagi says, her eyes glued to Goro in a way he finds vaguely discomforting. “If you guys can change outfits, why is Akechi still dressed like a black and purple candy cane?” From beside him, Akira chokes on his drink, and Goro subtly kicks him under the table, plastering on a pleasant grin. He knew he should have bought a fucking change of clothes. 

“Yukiko, you can’t just say things like that!” Satonaka admonishes her in an exaggerated whisper. 

“That really is quite the outfit you have, Akechi-Kun,” Yamagishi adds innocently, clearly not catching the vaguely threatening aura he was trying to give off to stop this conversation from happening. 

“I wanted him to wear it,” Akira quickly cuts in as soon as he recovers from his coughing fit. Turning to Goro, he flashes him a devilish smile that’s all _Joker_ despite his missing uniform. “It looks _great_ on him doesn’t it?” Looking back to the others, he offers a noncommittal shrug. “I just wasn’t in a trenchcoat kind of mood today.”

That seems to appease the group who drops the topic of their clothing, only to instead continue casting shared glances between each other before looking back to Akira. 

“Say…” Satonaka says finally, right before Goro was about to confront them about their apparent staring problem. “I don’t want to sound rude...but we really thought you _died_.”

“Yeah dude, I’m pretty sure I set you on fire,” Iori points out bluntly, causing Goro to flinch at the memory. Oblivious to how his words might be taken, Iori _keeps talking_. “Mitsuru told us you recovered and that she couldn’t give us the deets, but I really don’t know how anyone could have recovered from that.”

“Yeah…” Satonaka says. “Akechi didn’t take it so well…” She adds before looking to Goro, her eyes somber. “We were really worried about you, you know?”

Goro stares at her, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“You were worried?”

“Yeah of course,” she says as if this should be obvious and not one of the most insane things Goro has ever heard. “I know you don’t have the easiest time getting along with people around here, but I consider you my friend.”

“So do I!” says Yamagishi. 

“Mmhm!” Amagi also agrees.

Iori claps him on the shoulder, shooting him a grin. 

And Goro is...frozen. He’d kept mostly to himself at his job, getting his work done, exceeding at it, but nothing much more than that. He’d exchanged pleasantries with his coworkers, had a few polite and civil conversations, but never enough to think that they actually cared about him.

He’s...not sure how to feel. Isn’t sure what to do. 

Luckily, Akira cuts in before Goro can make a complete ass of himself by saying nothing. 

“Guess I don’t have to follow you around on every mission after all,” Akira tells him with a small smile, and Goro turns to him, his heart dropping painfully at his words. Only Akira is already looking away, back towards the group. “I’m glad Goro has people here he can trust.”

Goro settles for harshly biting down on his lip, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Satonaka says to Akira. “And I’m uh...really glad you’re not dead by the way,” she adds a bit sheepishly. “I’m gonna be really honest and say I’m not really sure what happened or what’s going on here, but if you two are together again then I guess that’s okay. I don’t need to know.” 

For the second time that night, Goro finds himself completely caught off guard. Something warm settles in his chest at her unquestioning acceptance, as it does when the others voice their agreement.

“Thank you-”

“Chie is fine,” she interrupts him. “Last names are so informal.”

“Yeah,” Goro says with an honest smile. “I suppose they are.” 

***

Later, he and Akira find themselves in a mostly secluded corner of the room. 

The party is slowly winding down and although Goro had gotten into the spirit of dragging Akira around the room and introducing everyone to his very much _alive_ fiance, eventually exhaustion started to take hold and he was glad when Akira led them somewhere they could be alone. 

Idly, Goro finds himself playing with the ring on his finger again. It still didn’t quite feel real. There’s a part of himself that continues to remind him that there’s a chance that this could very well be the last night that Akira _is_ real and standing beside him, and he’s not really sure what to do with that information. He isn’t sure if he’s ready. He isn’t sure if it’s possible for him to _ever_ be ready for something like that.

He’d gotten more time, which is more than most people who lose a soulmate can say for themselves, but he still found himself terrified of having to live an entire lifetime without him. 

“May I have this dance?” Akira cuts into his thoughts, outstretching a hand towards him as he leans forward in his best attempt at a chivalrous bow. Noting his sparkling eyes and cheeky grin, Goro rolls his eyes, but takes his hand anyway. 

Akira rests a hand on the small of his back and pulls him in close and Goro follows his lead, The two of them falling into some stunted variation of a slow dance that’s clearly unpracticed, but still manages to have grace. _Much like Akira himself,_ Goro thinks with amusement.

“So, your thoughts about tonight?” Akira asks him as they continue to move to Akira’s own noiseless tempo, no actual music to be heard. Goro frowns at the question, uncertain what Akira wants him to say. 

“About what?”

“Don’t be like that,” Akira answers immediately, and Goro avoids his eyes for a moment as he collects his thoughts. 

“I suppose it was...nice,” he voices eventually. “I wasn’t aware so many people had cared.”

Akira makes a small noise of understanding, and his arms tighten around him. He stops moving and Goro follows suit, instead deciding to rest his chin on Akira’s shoulder so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes. 

“There’s a lot of people who care about you, Goro,” Akira says after a moment, his tone soft. Carding his fingers through Goro’s hair, he gently nudges his head with his own. “You just have to stop pushing them away.”

Goro doesn’t say anything, but turns to press his face into the crook of Akira’s neck, breathing him in. His scent is comforting, as is the strength of his embrace and the way he continues to pet his hair. 

Time seems to lapse for a while, a small eternity existing in the spaces between their breaths. But much too soon, Akira’s hands find their way to his arms, and he pulls them apart so he can look Goro in the eyes. 

“Well, it’s almost time,” he says with a melancholy tilt to his lips. “You ready?”

Goro’s mouth opens...and closes. His brows crease as he tries to find his answer. Deep down in the depths of his soul he knows that they need to leave eventually, but there’s a small quiet voice in his head that asks him if it’d really be so bad to stay here forever. There was no telling what living the rest of his life in the Metaverse would do to his physical body, but maybe there was an option there-

“ _Goro_ ,” Akira says gently, “Look at me.” Goro does, and it’s only when Akira rests his hands on his cheeks and thumbs beneath his eyes that he even realizes he’s crying. “You know,” Akira starts slowly, his gaze intense in a way that’s utterly captivating. “Even if the mark fades, you’ll always carry a piece of me with you.” Taking Goro’s hand gently into his own he adds, “You’ll never be alone again, I want you to know that.”

As if to prove his point, Akira adjusts their hands until their marks press against each other, a pleasant spark alighting his every nerve at the contact. Goro finds himself closing his eyes, concentrating on the feeling. Deep within himself, at the origin of his being where he is most base, he feels the strength of their bond coil around him. Intertwined with his like an unbreakable string. Just like it had always been, all his life. 

“I know,” Goro tells him, opening his eyes. He hesitates for one more moment, but finds his answer concrete and resolute at the base of his tongue. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will,” Akira says, squeezing his hand. “Now come on, let’s get going.” 

***

When Goro steps out of the Metaverse, the sky above is a bright cerulean blue. Some of the other Metaverse users linger around the place of entry, none of them paying attention to him or the now empty space beside him. 

As he expected, Akira is no longer with him. 

But although he finds himself missing his presence almost immediately, he looks down at the still bright letters adorning his wrist, and he finds that he’s no longer afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3


	7. Soulmates

When Akira first died, Goro lost himself for a while. 

Something deep inside him snapped, gave way like his ribcage was splintering open to make way for his heart to rip itself inside out and climb up his windpipe until all he could hear was Loki screeching overhead. There were hands pulling at him, tearing him away from Akira lying on the ground, dead and lifeless, so much like his mother when he’d found her slumped over in the bath, the water turned red with her blood-

Dimly he registered Satonaka’s face as she came in sight, trying to talk to him, trying to pull him away- but _NO_ ** _. NONONONONONO._**

This was _her_ fault. _All of their faults._ Loki screeched and he clawed and his heart was still splitting open but there was blood on the floor and Akira was-

He tried to rip himself out of Satonaka’s grasp again, but she was strong. Stronger than he expected. She managed to hold him back while Iori stood above the body of the only one in the world Goro gave a damn about, and promptly set him ablaze. 

The fire echoed somewhere deep inside him and he screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls to mirror the sound of his entire soul being ripped apart. 

It was Yamagishi who finally shoved something into his mouth that instantly caused the world to spin. Akira’s fire engulfed body grew hazy under the combination of his tears and whatever sedative she must have given him. 

Before he lost consciousness, he sensed the faintest sensation of warmth at his wrist. Numbly, he’d assumed it had been the first signs of his mark fading away from his skin. 

But then his mark never faded. 

***

The early morning sunlight shines through the window in their apartment. Goro would need to be at work soon, but for now he concentrates the best that he can on the latest report he’d been working on. It still needed a few edits, but he was putting his best effort into it and what he had so far was reading over well. 

Reaching for his mug of coffee on the counter, his gaze catches on his soulmark, still as bright and vivid as it was when he was a child. His heart warms a bit at the sight, and when he brings the cup of coffee to his lips it’s with a fond little smile. 

“It’s been almost a week,” Morgana tells him, and Goro looks down at where he’s perched on his lap. “What if he never comes back?” he asks, paws kneading anxiously against his thighs. 

Goro makes a thoughtful noise low in his throat, swirling the coffee around in his cup as he thinks of what to tell him. 

“Akira died so that I could live,” he settles on saying. “I refuse to let that be for nothing.”

It’s a quiet truth he’d had trouble coming to terms with before, but he understood it better now. It didn’t make living without Akira any easier, but it at the very least gave him purpose. 

“I think he’d be happy to hear you say that,” Morgana says a bit sadly. Yet, it’s clear he understands. 

“I agree,” Goro tells him, scratching him behind the ear. 

***

When a little over a month has passed, Goro finds himself hesitating outside of Mitsuru’s office. 

Without thinking about it, he finds himself twisting the ring on his finger, a new habit he’d picked up lately. His attention drawn to it, he turns the ring so it catches the light and finds himself calmed by the way it shines against his skin. 

With a deep breath, he finally steps through the door.

“Mitsuru-San,” he says upon entering, smiling at her pleasantly when she looks up from her laptop. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask for your advice.”

“Oh, of course,” she says in clear surprise before gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. “Please, have a seat.” As he gets settled, she puts her laptop away and gives him her full attention. “What did you want to ask me?”

With his hands on his lap, Goro finds himself twisting the ring once again as he finds his words. 

“Well you’re the person who’s the most...familiar with my situation,” he starts slowly. “And you _are_ the one who happens to know the most about the cognitive world. So, I can’t help but wonder if you have any thoughts as to the...likelihood of Akira’s return.”

As he finishes his request, she gives him a small heartfelt smile. “I expected that might be what you came here to ask,’ she says with a sigh. Pursing her lips, she appears to think it over. “If you want my professional opinion, we rather thankfully don’t know much about what happens to someone when they die within the cognitive world,” she continues after a moment. “There’s a lot of questions there, which without more research, can technically be considered to have limitless possibilities. It could be, that dying in the cognitive world isn’t as permanent as a death here would be.”

When she finishes speaking, Goro frowns down at his hands, still not completely satisfied with that explanation. It was a vague answer at best, more theories and hypotheticals. 

“And your personal one?” he finds himself asking, to which she offers him another smile, one that tells him she’d expected him to ask that too. 

“I think...he sensed that you needed him,” she voices slowly, Goro’s heart skipping a beat in response. “I don’t think what happened would have occurred with just anyone who died in the cognitive world.”

It’s an answer that resonates more with him. That feels more like the right answer, even if it defies all logic and technicalities. It’s the one his heart responds to, the complicated and senseless organ that it is. 

“My soul called out, and his answered,” he muses. 

“Yeah,” Mitsuru says gently. Then she pauses, seems to hesitate a little, and then continues with a voice tinged with melancholy, “The human soul has a lot of strength to it. It can pull off some really amazing things.”

“You sound as if you talk from experience,” Goro says, tilting his head as he eyes her critically. 

She laughs a little at that, but her eyes go distant. 

“Another time, maybe.”

***

The lunchroom is once again filled with conversation, and although Goro usually tends to avoid these types of places in preference to eating in his office, he finds that he’s been coming out here more often than not, as of late. 

On this day in particular, Chie, Yosuke, Souji, and Junpei are occupying the room, and Goro makes his way over to them, greeting them as he sits. Their conversation quickly resumes, and Goro does his best to keep up, even though he has no real input to offer. Still, he finds it nice to be welcomed, even if his actual social skills probably need a bit of work. It was often way too easy to default to his Detective Prince persona when talking to people, something that Akira always used to catch and point out.

But he was working on it now, albeit slowly. All progress is good progress, as they say. And the fact that he was sitting here in the first place...he thinks Akira would be happy. 

“Hey, how about that bar down the street?” Junpei practically yells despite their close proximity, causing Goro to jolt a bit in his seat. 

“What no,” Chie says with a frown. “I’m starving. I could really go for steak right about now.”

“I could go for a beef bowl,” Souji pitches in, to which Chie gives him a disbelieving look. 

“How can you even still stand to look at them after you did that challenge?” 

“I have nerves of steel,” Souji responds flatly. 

“Uh-huh,” Chie says, clear disbelief not waning. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Oh! Oh! How about ramen?” Yosuke says, slamming his phone on the table and cutting in. 

“Oh...I could go for ramen!” Chie says. “Let’s do that!” Turning to address Goro, she adds in a more subdued and friendly tone, “Hey, Goro, did you want to come with us?”

This isn’t the first time he’s been invited along, and yet he can’t quite quell his surprise. It never fails to bewilder him that people actually want to spend time with him. 

“I have nothing else planned,” he tells her with a warm smile, genuinely thankful for her offer. 

And when he later leaves with them, the others laughing and playfully arguing with each other, Goro takes a moment to cast a look towards the sky, and he thanks him too. 

***

It’s a beautiful and sunny day, the sun above shining its light down over the park. It warms Goro as he sits on the park bench and flips idly through his phone, checking his emails before thumbing over to his Messenger app. 

“It’s almost been two months now,” Morgana says from where he’s perched on the back of the bench, his paws resting on Goro’s shoulder and his tail flicking every so often to dust against his cheek. 

Goro nods but doesn’t say anything immediately. Instead, he lifts his gaze from his phone, finding a little boy on the sidewalk in front of them who’s watching a trail of ants transport food into an anthill. The child’s attention is rapt, and with a tinge of nostalgia, Goro finds himself reminded of himself when he was young. He realizes now that watching ants was a strange pastime for a child, but it’d occupied him back then, and he’d always had a certain respect for their strength despite being so small. Stupid really, they were only ants. 

“Akechi?” Morgana questions, his tail batting his tail against his cheek again. “You okay?”

Goro gives him a slight smile and nods. “Of course, there’s really no need to worry so much, Morgana.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, seeming to relax a little. 

Returning to his phone, Goro busies himself reading through the messages he’d missed in the Shadow Ops group chat. They were making plans for a movie night, but couldn’t seem to agree on the genre of film. Goro doesn’t have any particular input, but he finds himself once again amused by their arguing. They were like the Phantom Thieves in a lot of ways, and he can almost see himself getting along with them in the same way. At least, if he had he joined them earlier and hadn’t had their every interaction tinged with the knowledge of his inevitable betrayal. 

Still, Goro sometimes still finds himself wondering what his life would have been like if he’d chosen a different path. Was there an iteration of his life where he never would have met Akira Kurusu at all, or were they always tied together like two elastic bands- always propelled toward each other no matter how far away they ended up. He had a feeling it was the latter. Never was there a lifetime he could think of that didn’t somehow have Akira in it. Even now, Goro might have been managing to live on his own without him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss him more with every passing day. 

Abruptly, Morgana’s claws dig into his shoulder, and Goro turns to look at him in question. Only, the moment he looks away from his phone, his gaze catches on something. Or rather, _someone_. 

“Woah,” the little boy says, eyes wide at the figure now miraculously standing over him. 

“Huh,” Akira says, taking a step away from him and towards Goro. “He didn’t even scream like he’d seen a ghost, which I think is probably a good sign. Although-”

“Akira,” Goro interrupts calmly, uncrossing his legs and standing from the bench. 

“Yes, honey?” He smiles then, a bit nervously as if he’s not quite sure how Goro is going to react, and...everything comes crashing down. 

Quickly closing the distance between them, Goro presses in close, placing a hand over his still-beating heart. 

“Please stop talking,” Goro whispers against his lips before leaning in that final breath of space and kissing him. 

As Akira wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him closer, Goro closes his eyes and gets lost in the familiar feeling of him that he’d been afraid he’d lost forever. Through the sudden warmth flooding his entire body, he feels his heart increase in tempo, a quiet melody that matches perfectly to the beating of Akira’s own beneath his palm. It’s a song that sings to the depths of his soul, and through it he feels the strength of their bond flow around them, the tether that continues to bind them together, despite all odds. 

“You sure took your time,” Goro says quietly when they finally pull apart, breathless and shaking. 

“I think I drifted...or something for a while,” Akira tells him, his brows furrowing as if he can’t quite remember. “It’s hard to explain.” Trailing a hand down Goro’s arm, he grabs his hand, their soulmarks tingling pleasantly at the proximity. “But then I felt a pull, and I followed.” 

Goro swallows down a sudden lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the emotions rushing through him. 

“I’m glad you found your way back,” he manages after a moment. 

With a small smile, Akira leans in and presses his forehead against his. 

“It’s like I said before,” he says, tone soft and gentle. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

And while it may be true that Goro hasn’t yet told him about the strength their bond has given him. Hasn’t mentioned the purpose that he found in wanting to _live_ in a way that would make him happy; no matter if Akira was somewhere watching over him, or destined to someday find his way back. In the end, it doesn’t matter because Akira has _always_ been observant. 

So, he has a feeling he already knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank every single person who stuck with this story, and especially those who commented, even if it was just with tears in my inbox. I appreciate you all so much.
> 
> I ended up writing this entire fic in about a week, and with life things happening at the same time, I wouldn't have been able to pull this off it wasn't for all the support I've gotten<3 I especially want to thank my lovely friends who had to deal with me pinging the sprint bot continuously. You know who you are :)
> 
> Anyway, I do hope that everyone is satisfied with the ending :3 To be honest, in my original outline Akira was never supposed to come back, and Goro would have learned to be okay without him. Years passing but his mark remaining- a testament to the fact that Akira would always be with him. Hence: hopeful ending. BUT after much deliberation, I decided I would go with a happy ending instead :3

**Author's Note:**

> Help your local struggling writer today and pls kudos and/or comment ;w;
> 
> You can find me on Twitter:  
> @pana_pancake


End file.
